


Second Impressions

by fuure, PieDeLune



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Love Triangles, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 19:18:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 39,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9917921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuure/pseuds/fuure, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieDeLune/pseuds/PieDeLune
Summary: After his date bails on him, William thinks the night is unlikely to improve...especially when Grell Sutcliffe shows up. But when he has a surprisingly enjoyable time with his age-old rival, William begins to realise that maybe there is more to Grell than he originally believed.Is it possible for centuries of bad impressions to be overwritten, and could it be that they are exactly what the other one needed?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gentle warning: In this story, Grell is genderfluid and uses male pronouns. Your trans author wishes to remind you that genderfluidity itself is no less trans and pronouns do not dictate gender :D  
> Comments starting drama about how you perceive Grell will be deleted. <3 Other than that, please enjoy!

_ “lol this is so fruity what even am i watching???????” _

 

[Send.]

 

So texted Ronald Knox to his best friend, Eric Slingby. 

 

This was supposed to be an extremely fancy date that William T. Spears, Ronald’s boss and boyfriend, had invited him along to. The Solaris Concert Hall was an incredibly prestigious theatre in the heart of London, and when Ronald had (half-listened) to the word ‘theatre’, he had assumed they were going to see a movie, and wondered why William had insisted that he dress up so nicely. 

 

It was most definitely not a movie. It wasn’t even a West End musical; Ronald could had lived with some Andrew Lloyd Weber, sure, and hell, he could have even sat through a whole showing of  _ Les Miserables _ , but this? He didn’t even speak the language these performers were singing in, and it was probably the fruitiest thing he had ever seen in his life. According to the playbill, it was  _ The Magic Flute _ , some 18th-century opera written by Mozart. Fucking boring.

 

Ronald just sat disinterestedly back in his chair and texted Eric the whole time if he wasn’t scrolling through Tumblr and blogging about literally anything else unrelated to the opera he was so ‘under dressed’ for. 

_ “someone’s gotta stage an intervention for kojima’s crush on mikkelsen lmao” _ he commented in response to an article about an upcoming game and the director’s not-so-subtle crush on one of the actors he had cast for it. 

He was completely oblivious to William’s stony silence when it was time for the intermission, and everyone got up to stretch their legs and use the restroom and freshen up. Ronald just stayed glued to his phone, giggling to himself at cat videos. 

 

William was just a little bit frustrated at his date’s behaviour. 

They’d gone out a few times, all to places of Ronald’s choosing, which meant William had a generally unpleasant time… but at least he’d tried to participate and enjoy himself.    
  


The one time William convinced Ronald to try something he would like, Ronald had made zero effort – his attempt at ‘suiting up’ was a blazer on top of a t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. William, dressed to the nines in a stunning black tuxedo and Armani footwear, genuinely felt embarrassed to be seen sitting next to Ronald as he scrolled that ‘Tumbling’ application on his mobile telephone. 

 

That wasn’t something a man should be feeling about the person he was dating, but William had no idea how to say something about it, so he was standoffish instead. 

 

“…I’m going to get some fresh air,” he said curtly to Ronald when it was time for the intermission, and they went their separate ways: Ronald to the bathroom, no doubt to relieve himself of that extra-large soda he’d loudly slurped all the way through the first half, and William to the outer deck of the beautiful theatre. 

 

On his way there, he picked up a scotch on the rocks, and quietly proceeded onto the cool balcony to enjoy the night air and a much-needed cigarette.

He was a little put off by all this. None of the men William had dated in the past would have behaved like Ronald had been. Was this what the Head Manager of Britain’s Reaper Dispatches deserved for stepping out of his comfort zone for once?

 

“Oh? Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Spears,” came a soft, lilting, feminine voice from another spot on the balcony.

 

Grell Sutcliffe leaned against the railing with a Bloody Mary in one gloved hand and a long, ceramic cigarette drag in the other, and blending in perfectly with the ladies in their evening gowns and opera gloves. His ruby hair was done up in an elegant chignon, and his heeled shoes sparkled even in low light. In an evening gown and fancier makeup than usual, he looked very much at home with high society.

 

“ _ The Magic Flute _ ?” Grell asked with a lipstick-framed smile and elegant tilt of the head. “I hadn’t pegged you for a fan of opera~ This has been my favorite for centuries, so I couldn’t possibly miss it. Have you been enjoying it?”

It was a startling contrast to his usual manic behavior in the office; it could have been the alcohol and the cigarette keeping him calm, but for what this was, it was definitely a change from his usual disrespectful attitude. He hadn’t even attempted to hug William against his will.

 

William startled a little when he heard Grell Sutcliffe’s voice. Usually it was the last voice he wanted to hear at any given moment, no matter the occasion. 

 

And he wasn’t in a great mood, given how poorly this date was going. If Sutcliffe had come to harass him, William had half a mind to ram the sharp end of his scythe up one of Grell’s orifices. After all, it would not be strange to assume that Grell was only here to stalk him.

 

Turning calmly in the direction of the voice however, William was presented with the sight of Grell in an immaculate evening gown, and it caused him to do a bit of a double take. 

But was it so surprising? Grell certainly had an appreciation for the finer things in life, including fine art, sartorialism, and opera. 

 

“Oh,” came the somewhat abrupt response from the brunet, and he lowered his guard. “H-honestly, I hadn’t expected you to be here, either…” 

He adjusted his glasses with a bit of a sigh. “I’m here on a date with Ronald Knox, because I’m rather fond of this opera myself, and I wanted to see it with him.” 

 

Had he been enjoying the night so far, though? ….Not particularly. Hence why he was alone on this balcony.

 

“You look…decent,” he added, finding his manners. 

 

Grell raised an eyebrow, taking a dainty sip of his cocktail. “With Ronald?” he asked incredulously, though not without a sting of jealousy. “Ah. I’m surprised he agreed to come. He doesn’t strike me as the type to appreciate the finer things in life. But perhaps he could surprise me further…”

He turned away from William, brushing some hair out of his face, and looked down over the city lights with his cigarette. “I look more than just decent, by the way,” he added with a confident smile. “I don’t dare show my face in such a fancy part of town looking anything less than perfection, and neither do you.”

 

Ah…but that had almost been a compliment from William, hadn’t it? It was such a refreshing change from the usual verbal abuse. Grell didn’t much fancy getting smacked round the head with William’s death scythe. Though the “scythe” in William’s pants would have been acceptable…Grell almost had to physically shake the thought from his head. Honestly, he was in polite society. He could be a pervert later, when he got home.

 

He crossed his ankles elegantly where he stood, tapping the ash from his cigarette into a nearby tray. “…But if you’re out here alone, I take it the date isn’t going as well as you’d hoped, is it?” he mused, offering William a smidgen of sympathy.

 

William’s sharp brows drew together slightly, and he returned his gaze to the city lights as well. 

 

“I suppose not,” was all he said on the matter. He wasn’t about to trash talk his date. Ronald was technically his boyfriend, wasn’t he…? And William was a proper English gentleman. 

 

“Are you here with someone, yourself?” he ventured, exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. “If not, I expect there’ll be a free seat beside me by the time the next act resumes.”

It was not said without a note of bitterness….why couldn’t Ronald have just feigned interest in William’s hobbies instead of acting like a child? 

Besides, even if they didn’t get along, William would have preferred to sit next to someone who had dressed for the occasion and actually wanted to be here.

 

Grell briefly curled his lip back in a sneer, baring his pointed teeth. Ronald…what an ungrateful little bastard! How dare he squander such a gift from William! Didn’t he know how lucky he was? Little brat…

 

“I came alone,” Grell replied loftily, raising his chin a little as he observed the city from their balcony. “Unfortunately, I have no friends who appreciate the arts, particularly dying forms of it like opera.” He glanced back at William again, considering him. “But whether or not you find yourself dateless, you’re welcome to join me in my private box, darling. Box Four, of course.”

 

As his luck would have it, Ronald chose that moment to stumble outside with a beer in hand, and Grell physically recoiled from him when he saw what Ronald was wearing.

 

“Will! Will, listen! Listen. I, uh, I actually can’t make it for the second half. I gotta go. Like, I just remembered I left my clothes in the wash and I gotta go get them out before they get all mildewy and gross,” he chattered loudly, holding onto William’s arm. “So I gotta go. Sorry about that! Uh, cool play thing and stuff! Oh, hi, Grell!”

 

Grell clutched his drink so tightly he was in danger of breaking the glass. “Good evening, Ronald,” he replied acidly through gritted teeth. How embarrassing! This little brat had actually showed up to the London Opera in THIS?! He was a complete embarrassment to William; there were people glancing at him and murmuring under their breath to their friends and partners and snickering. Oh, a commoner. How cute.

 

Ronald patted William’s back, oblivious to the negative energy directed at him. “So! I’ll see you later! Oh, and we’re still dating, right, Will? Sorry this one didn’t go so good! I’ll take you on a better one next time!”

 

William’s expression was stony as Ronald spoke to him, hanging off of him and slopping beer everywhere (thankfully not on William’s expensive tuxedo, however), as he announced his attention to leave his date halfway through the performance.

 

William didn’t bat an eye. What could he say? He’d literally just implied that he expected Ronald to ditch him, and boy, Ronald did not disappoint. At least, having such low expectations meant that William could not be let down too badly. He didn’t want to feel that way, though.    
  


He liked Mr. Knox, and….he wanted things to work out. 

 

“Ah. Of course, Ronald,” he answered, gloved hand flying to adjust his glasses again, quick to mask how he felt about the matter. “Do whatever you need to. I will see you at work on Monday. …Thank you for your time.” 

And then the blond was gone. Not, of course, out of any particular concern for his laundry; he would surely be found at the nearest pub with Eric Slingby. 

 

It was a little embarrassing to be stiffed by a date in front of someone else, but it was clear by the look on Grell’s face that he shared William’s frustration. 

There was a long silence between the remaining two reapers, followed by William draining his scotch and setting it down on the balcony with a clink. 

 

“Box Four, did you say?” he asked abruptly, with not another word on the subject. “That sounds excellent.” 

He didn’t offer to escort Grell back arm-in-arm as he would any other man – they weren’t that close, and he was still very wary that Grell would resort to his usual antics if he didn’t have some ulterior motive already.

William could, however, at least take him up on his offer to sit in one of the illustrious private boxes. 

 

Might as well get something out of tonight.

 

Grell didn’t even make any attempts to hang onto William’s arm anyway; he withdrew a compact from his clutch purse and powdered his nose and freshened his lipstick, and he appeared to be on very familiar terms with the opera house staff and would take a moment to say hello. He seemed to delight whenever someone couldn’t decide whether to address him as “sir” or “ma'am”, and awkwardly settle for “honoured guest”.

 

“Some of these humans are still positively archaic. They should catch up to gender expression soon,” he tittered behind his ostrich-feather fan as they stepped into Grell’s private viewing box. He settled into a comfortable, plush red velvet chair and picked up a heavily gilded pair of golden opera glasses, which he used to observe the orchestra as they warmed up.

 

“The second half is the most exciting,” he commented to William, scanning the audience with interest. “But my favorite is the aria of the Queen of the Night. I’ve had records of that part for decades, and I always seem to wear them out every sixty years or so…those MP3 players aren’t really the same, are they? I still prefer phonographs after all these years. But that just shows our age, now, doesn’t it, darling?”

 

William was mostly silent in response, but in his mind, he couldn’t help but agree. 

 

Was it the age gap between he and Ronald that made it so difficult for the two of them to connect? A few hundred years was a lot of time for mental maturity, after all… 

His eyes flicked over to Grell after he’d settled into a separate chair close to the balcony that overlooked the audience. He and Sutcliffe had become reapers at similar times and gone through the academy together. Since Grell had died in his twenties, and William as a pitiful child, did that mean Grell was older than he was? 

 

The thought made the ghost of a smile pass over William’s lips, though he stifled it quickly; Grell would never want to hear such things. Since William had no idea how to talk about Grell’s ‘gender expression’, it was better to stay quiet and listen to the regal redhead speak at length about the opera William had already seen plenty of times. 

 

When the theatre grew dark and it was signalled that the performance would be resuming, William raised his own opera glasses to his eyes and leaned forward eagerly. 

At least now he could focus on the performance, instead of asking Ronald not to put his feet on the seats, and to please keep his phone turned off during the show. 

 

Peace and quiet…It was all William ever really wanted.

 

Once the show began again, Grell ceased his own chatter and paid rapt attention to the stage, quiet and observant. They sat in silence, watching the rest of the opera unfold, and though the both of them had seen it countless times already on their own, there always seemed to be something new to observe. Personally, Grell was extremely happy to be experiencing this with William. Even if Ronald had ended up tagging along, Grell was happy to spend the time with William, his oldest and most constant flame.

 

He kept his gaze through his opera glasses, but only once did he deign to glance sidelong over at William; during the end of a scene. What was he thinking, Grell wondered. He’d dressed up so handsomely and it made the redhead’s heart ache, and he hated Ronald for abandoning that.    
  
_ He doesn’t appreciate you like I would _ , he thought in pain, turning his attention back to the stage.  _ But you’ve made it clear how you feel about me. Even though I can’t help but pursue you anyway. If that brat is who makes you happy, then…so be it. You have awful taste, though. _

 

At least now things had remained civil. Grell had maintained a sense of self control and kept himself off of William, and William hadn’t been any colder than usual. That was nice. Grell would take what he could get. And knowing Ronald, Grell had a sense of what poor William had had to put up with during the first act, so Grell stayed on his best behavior to seem desirable by comparison. Not that he would ever let a mobile phone distract him from the opera, or do something as unladylike as put his feet on the seats, but allowing William his space was enough. Even with two seats between them, it was nice. They were sharing a box – no, an experience.

 

It eased the pain just a little.

 

When it was over, William joined the audience in a standing ovation as the cast bowed on stage. He clapped his black leather gloves together with a good amount of enthusiasm, and in his peripherals he could see Grell Sutcliffe doing the same. 

This was how the night was supposed to go, just taking the time to enjoy a beautiful performance beloved by all for decades. Of course, then he’d been hoping to take Ronald home where they would lie together for the first time. William wouldn’t spread his legs before any less than three dates, but... that certainly wouldn’t be happening tonight. 

 

“Amazing show, wasn’t it?” he sighed – an unusual action which had nothing to do with the show, but rather an inconcealable expression of disappointment about his failed date. 

 

“Yes, as always,” Grell replied a little dreamily, dabbing at his eyes with a lacy handkerchief. But he paused and glanced at William again, gaze lingering for a moment, and it slowly morphed from awe of the beautiful show into sympathy for the man beside him. If Ronald Knox did not make up for this, there was going to be Hell to pay, and Grell was going to deliver him there personally.    
  
_ How dare he put a look like that on William’s face… _

 

“It was amazing,” the redhead emphasized, lowering his gaze. “It’s simply too bad that you ended up finishing it without your expected company, and you had to put up with me instead. But…I hope it was at least better than watching it alone?”

 

He politely declined a bottle of wine offered to him by the box’s private usher and kept his attention on William. “I hope you give that boy an earful tomorrow,” he huffed, crossing his arms. “No gentleman should ever leave his date in the middle of it! And certainly not for such a pitiful excuse as his laundry.” He turned away sulkily, turning his gaze back over the audience. “What a little philistine; honestly…! He’d be wise never to do that again! Perhaps I’ll set him up with a suit, as well; he’d better not dare show his face in this opera house again in anything less than Armani!”

 

“It wasn’t for lack of trying. I can’t force my interests on him,” William said diplomatically, even if he didn’t really enjoy saying so. “And it’s okay to date people who aren’t entirely like you. I thought I’d…give it a try. I don’t know…perhaps we simply are too different.”

They left the box together, leaving the theatre and gravitating out towards the street. William then turned off into an alley, where he could make a portal to the Reaper realm in privacy, and Grell stood out in the dim light like a flame. 

 

_ He certainly knows how to draw someone’s eye… _

 

“You can share a portal back with me if you want. You know what they’re saying lately about interplanar portals contributing to global warming, and all that,” William murmured, briefly passing a comb through his hair. “Unless you had other plans for the night.” 

 

“They’re saying that about portals now?” Grell asked with surprise, glancing up from powdering his nose again. “Goodness, that’s rather distressing. Humans do enough to muck up this world as it is!”

 

Then he realized what he had just been asked, eyes widening with heavy interest, and he had to forcibly keep himself calm. He’d been on his best behavior all night! He couldn’t ruin that now! He had to…oh, what was that ghastly phrase Ronald had used so liberally in the 1990s? Take a chill pill.

 

“I did not,” the diva finally replied, casually going back to powdering his nose and trying not to appear overeager even though his heart had just started going wild. “If you don’t mind sharing, though, I would be happy to take a portal with you, William, darling. We simply  _ must _ be mindful of the environment!”

 

Oh, how he wanted to hook arms with William like a real lady…!!

 

But he could not. Things had been going swimmingly and he didn’t want to scare William away. Best to be polite enough, but keep the conversation moving. “As for Ronald…well, I hope he appreciates this chance you’ve given him. And it was generous of you to give it to him! But…”

 

He hesitated, turning his gaze away, and slowly closed his compact with a quiet snap. “Well, you know what they say,” he decided eventually. “Opposites attract. Perhaps he might surprise you and show you significantly more courtesy next time.”

 

Another soft sigh fell from William’s chest, gently clouding the cold air with its crystals. 

 

“That was my thinking,” he answered, all the while knowing that whatever this was, Ronald hadn’t appreciated it. Although he didn’t say so, his silence was more than explanatory to an observant creature like Grell. 

Without another word, he nonchalantly summoned his deathscythe and extended it, then beckoned Grell into a little nook just to make sure no one would catch sight of them.    
  


The portal opened back to the reaper realm, and while William still would not take Grell’s arm, hand, or any appendage for that matter, he still stepped aside to allow the redhead to go through first.    
  


It was even colder in the realm of the death gods. Life was warmth, and this place had none. 

William, suddenly feeling quite tired, glanced around the bare street of this neon, fibreglass city, void of anything not relevant to a grim reaper’s duties. 

 

“Well,” said the brunet, lighting up his second cigarette for the night, “this evening could have been worse. I appreciate your decency.”

For once.

 

Grell automatically fastened a new cigarette into his fancy tortoiseshell holder and extended it towards William to light. He looked very much out of place against the stark whites of the City of Reapers in his stunning red evening gown; this was a place that normally was occupied by black and white business suit-wearing men and women. He bundled his shawl a little more tightly around his upper arms, grateful for his black opera gloves to provide a little extra warmth. 

 

“Well,” he replied with a wink once his cigarette was lit, “I could hardly misbehave at such a posh show, you know. But, Will, darling, you seem so terribly stressed…! You are wound so tightly. It’s not good for clocks, and it’s not good for handsome managers. If you were wound any tighter, all of your cogs and gears would just…! Fall right to pieces! And that would be the end of you!”

 

He shut his eyes and let out a slow breath through his lips, blowing smoke aside. “Now that I think about it, you ought to sign up for a ballet class,” he decided sagely, smiling around his cigarette holder’s stem. “That kind of exercise requires intense concentration, and for a while, you forget aaaaaalll of your worries~ And it performs miracles on your thighs, my god. It is phenomenal exercise!”

 

William glanced towards Grell in all of his stoic, masculine glory. He was clearly a master of saying things with his expressions rather than his words. 

This time, it was saying, _ ‘Do you really think I’m the type of man who would sign up for a ballet class?’  _

 

He frowned, tapping some ash from the tip of his cigarette with one gloved finger. 

“You’re not being serious, are you?” he asked, narrowing his angular eyes apprehensively. “I… appreciate your concern, unwarranted though it is, but please try to remember to whom it is that you are speaking.” 

It was not said harshly, but rather, in a way that let Grell know this had made him somewhat uncomfortable. After all, William’s preferred cure for stress was a cup of coffee, a handful of prescription medication, and maybe a beautiful man lying nude in his bed. 

 

“Anyway, I must be heading home… I will see you at work on Monday, Grell Sutcliffe. Do me a favour and arrive on time, will you?” 

 

“Hmph! I’ll arrive when you lot are worthy of seeing me,” Grell replied with a haughty flip of his hair. “But, darling, I’m afraid I’m deadly serious. Look into it. I think you’ve been around long enough, and around opera long enough, that I don’t need to remind you that ballet was invented by men and was performed exclusively by men in the French courts! It takes incredible strength, and is not for the weak. It’s a great challenge.”

 

He smiled again, meeting William’s eyes, but the smile was a little serious, somehow. “So, that said, I’ll have you know that I know you’d be brilliant at it. I think you’ll find the resulting dexterity and muscle tone after a bit of training to be extremely rewarding. It makes one much more limber in battle, which I think you’ll appreciate. And I know you value your masculinity, so if you’re concerned about feeling…erm…emasculated, I understand.”

He shook a finger at William then, the other hand on his hip, cigarette holder perched elegantly between his index and middle fingers, a fine plume of smoke still rising from it.    
  
“Nonetheless, I don’t think you should let that stop you!” he scolded. “I think you’d be missing out on a very good opportunity to grow even stronger, and you’re a smart man, and I know you don’t pass up good opportunities! So…so at least give it some consideration, won’t you…!”

 

William frowned a little further.

“So, you’re trying to convince me to join a ballet class while admitting that it is in fact emasculating?” He smirked ever so faintly as he turned away. 

 

Apart from that, though….Grell knew the right way to convince William to do something. 

Dexterity, muscle tone, the idea that it takes incredible strength… 

 

He glanced at the red reaper side-on, considering him. 

 

Did Grell… _ know _ …how William felt about his body? Had someone told him? Alan? Surely he would not betray trust like that. 

William decided, since he wasn’t about to ask, to just put the thought out of his mind. He was tired and wanted to relax. It was time to go. 

 

“Goodnight, Grell Sutcliffe,” he said simply. 

 

Grell huffed again, chin up, but drew back a little. “Give it some thought,” he repeated assertively, straightening up. “Don’t dismiss it before you’ve even given it a try, alright?”

 

He extended a long, slender arm to William, presenting his gloved hand to him expectantly, waiting for a gentleman’s kiss. “Good night, William T. Spears,” he finally answered, “until we meet again.”

 

It would really only be the next morning when they went to work, but Grell loved being dramatic and poetic.

William’s suspicion heightened just a little more as Grell raised his hand for a kiss, his eyebrow cocking in the faintest irritation. 

 

“Hmph.” Grell could be rather theatrical in his ways, but William supposed he had earned at least this, for making his night not quite as awful as it could have been.

 

“Very well,” he sighed, catching Grell’s hand in his own and gently lifting it to his lips. William bowed and met the redhead’s intent gaze as he pressed a light kiss to the red satin glove; a perfect gentleman. The brunet could smell Grell’s perfume; it was something floral, with fruity notes. William didn’t mind it. Straightening up, he adjusted his gunmetal grey frames and resumed the smoking of his cigarette.    
  


Might it be possible to imagine them platonically enjoying opera or orchestra together…? 

William wondered, but he didn’t say so yet. He’d already given Grell an inch, and didn’t want him to take a mile. 

 

“Tomorrow morning, 9:00 sharp. Don’t disappoint me, Sutcliffe,” he warned, then turned his back and disappeared into the darkness of the night. 

  
  
  


Grell, used to centuries of rejection, had honestly not expected to actually feel William’s lips touch his hand through the satin, especially not without grimacing or snarking, and had to actively force his glee — his utter delight — down and not break this cool façade that he had managed to construct. He smiled instead, and blew William a soft and gentle kiss in return.

 

“For you, darling, 9:00,” he replied with a flirtatious wink and a ladylike curtsy. With another swish of his hair and feminine sway of his hips, he, too, turned away to walk off to his flat. The entire time, he bit down hard on his upper lip to remain composed — still in earshot — and blood inevitably was drawn and mixed with his rouge. Grell could feel his heart pounding so fiercely that he could feel the pulse in his ears and his fingertips, and he even felt a little faint.    
Ah, the classic image of a maiden in love!! It felt like maybe he’d be sick but the only affliction he had was surely lovesickness!! And no  _ wonder _ it was called as such! This burning passion of centuries finally indulged in even the tiniest way…!! Grell was euphoric.

 

When, and only when, he finally made it to his flat and closed the door behind him, he finally allowed himself to release the most earsplitting squeal of delight. He jumped in place and hugged himself tightly, giggling in utter hysterics as he threw himself onto his plush king bed and proceeded to roll across it like a little girl. He was  _ never _ going to wash that glove. Ever.

 

William, in contrast, returned quietly to his simple, minimalist apartment, where he had a brief shower then settled down in front of the fire with some tea. He hadn’t expected his night to end like this at all; Ronald Knox was supposed to be warming his bed, but it was a brisk as ever in William’s bedroom. 

 

He didn’t even have a pet to keep him company anymore…following the death of his beloved dog, there was no one to greet him at the door anymore, or curl up in his lap. It was part of why William had started dating again anyway. 

 

_ “Oh.”  _

He was abruptly hit with a pang of loneliness that felt like being punched, and it freed the soft utterance from his throat. 

The Head Supervisor of Britain’s Dispatches was terribly miserable, once all his duties faded away, he was alone, and all the dark thoughts came creeping back in. 

 

There was nothing for it but alcohol and pills to put him straight to sleep. 

 

Grell, however, dealt with his loneliness in a much more conventional and perhaps questionably healthy way. He immediately adjourned to his bedroom to pleasure himself and make himself moan into the night. He was too pent up with romantic ecstasy and sexual energy to do anything else for hours. When he finally did finish himself off, it was only because he’d fallen asleep, drifting off into exhausted but rapturous triumph. 

 

Grell also had a dog – a snowy white borzoi – and she seemed to know whenever to make herself scarce and give her master some privacy. Once Grell was blissfully passed out in his bed, his dog daintily padded into the master bedroom to pull a blanket over her master’s nude form. Had she the personality and understanding, she would have slowly shaken her head at him.

  
Tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoy this!! Sorry it's so long since the last one, but please let us know if you want more O: 
> 
> \- clear and pie

Monday meant William was back on shift. He only ever got half-Sundays off, but those were the type of hours you could expect when you managed every Reaper Dispatch in Britain, and those dispatches were largely comprised of incompetent fools. They were  _ blessed _ to have William T. Spears to guide them. 

He arrived at the London Reaper Dispatch at 6:00 AM sharp, suit tight and crisp, hair neat and shoes polished. There was a large coffee in his hand, which he’d picked up in the cafeteria, and the janitors greeted him as he sleepily headed up to the top floor where his office was. 

No one typically got here for at least an hour, so it gave William the opportunity to do some work in peace and quiet. The quiet of the mornings as the sun came up was actually rather nice… 

One could almost forget that they were all here because they had killed themselves and earned eternal punishment as a result. William was quite skilled at putting that out of his mind. 

People began trickling in as the hours went by, and the dispatch gradually grew busier and livelier as the morning grew longer. Grell typically wouldn’t  _ ever  _ show up to clock in when he was supposed to — 9:00 sharp — but rather take his sweet time and often not show his face until noon. After all, what could they do to him?  _ Fire  _ him? There was very little you could do to punish someone when they were already dead, and they knew it.

Today, however, a few jaws dropped in surprise when Grell sauntered through the hallways, because he actually  _ was  _ right on time. He punched in exactly at 9, and not a moment sooner or later. It was a favor to William, he decided secretly. The poor dear had had such a miserable date. It was the  _ least  _ Grell could do for him, right?

So it was with hardly-restrained glee when Grell handed in his first report of the morning to William that he beheld the look on his boss’s face. “Oh, William, dear! You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, giving the handsome man a wink. “ _ Whatever _ could be the matter~?”

William stared at Grell expressionlessly. 

“You’re on time,” he stated, without even looking at his watch. Somehow, William had an innate sense of what time it was without ever having to consult any sort of time-keeping device. At the rare employee parties he attended, or any others that Ronald dragged him to, it often became a game of sorts. When would they tire of such simple amusement?

However, he was not surprised that Grell did show up. Last night had been unusual for them; it was rare that they got along at all. William had a feeling that Grell would do whatever he asked right now, surely hoping to get in William’s good books. 

Unfortunately for Grell, William only had one ‘book’, and that was the  _ To Die _ list.

“As for seeing ghosts, Mr. Sutcliffe, I find that rather amusing,” he declared with no trace of said amusement. “We are all dead here. Now please, be sure to get straight to work to maximize efficiency. You’re more behind than anyone here. It will be greatly appreciated if you could at least put a  _ dent _ in your paperwork…honestly.” 

He wasn’t about to chitchat about his feelings; they were at work. 

Such nonsense did not belong in work hours.  

Grell huffed and flicked a stray lock of hair back over his shoulder, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Humph!” he sulked, hunching his shoulders. “Not even a thank you! Well I  _ never _ !”

He turned on his heel in a storm, but he threw a wink over his shoulder, followed by a blown kiss. “Fine, fine! But only because  _ you  _ asked me to,” he announced airily as he flounced out of William’s office. 

Honestly, though, he never  _ had  _ done anything like this before. Grell was a well-established loose cannon in the office and always did exactly what he liked, and he was  _ still  _ doing just that, but…this time, he just…felt sorry for William. Beautiful William, whom Grell still loved after so many centuries, had had a bad date with an undeserving brat of a boy who didn’t appreciate who he had. Just doing what he was supposed to be doing  _ anyway _ would bring a little bit of peace to William’s mind, Grell hoped. 

He still planned to give Ronald an earful. That boy had been using the “young and rowdy” excuse for almost a century now and it had grown very tiresome. He wasn’t young anymore, though he certainly looked it. 

For once in his life, Grell remained hard at work for the whole day, though he  _ was  _ bored to tears with all this damn paperwork. Soul collection was  _ much  _ more fun, especially when he got to see a handsome man’s beautiful corpse. A handsome man’s  _ bloody  _ corpse was even better. But today there were none, and Grell sulked the whole time he did his dreadfully boring paperwork. Ah, well…at least there would be an enjoyable class later. He could let off some steam in there; as the instructor, he got to bark down at the newbies and seeing their terrified faces could be  _ such  _ fun~

William didn’t feel guilty that Grell was working so hard. It was the bare minimum any decent reaper should be accomplishing anyway.

Did Grell expect a medal every time he flounced in and delivered a booklet of paperwork straight to William’s desk (as opposed to, perhaps, filing them appropriately)?

William wasn’t going to give him any more credit than he deserved.

Around lunchtime, the head manager needed a break. There was no doubt he worked harder than anyone else here, but he was, in the general sense, only human.

A brisk walk to the bathroom, then, if he didn’t waste break time compulsively washing his hands, he could grab another coffee and a cigarette. 

However, before he could even step foot out of his office, he was blockaded at the door by his boyfriend.

“Mr. —  Er, Ronald,” the brunet uttered in mild surprise. “Good afternoon…”

Ronald grinned and kissed William’s cheek before lacing his fingers behind William’s neck, hanging halfway off of him. “Hiya, Will,” he chirped as good-naturedly as always. “Sorry for bailing last night! I was thinkin’ maybe if you like the theater, we could go see somethin’, like, a little more conventional? Like we can go to the West End and check out what’s playing…like, Wicked or Les Mis or something! I mean, long as they’re speaking a language we can actually understand, am I right?” he gently and teasingly elbowed William’s arm.

He gazed up at William with his mischievous, catlike eyes. “I like casual,” he added. “We can grab a bite to eat while we’re out, too! Dinner and a show! I was real hungry last night too so that didn’t help my attention span much. Next time’ll be way better, I promise!”

It was William’s instinct to be annoyed at Ronald for so rudely abandoning him on their date. In fact, last night William had put a bit of thought into whether or not he and Ronald were really compatible as a couple, and logic was pointing towards ‘no.’ 

But Ronald’s vivid eyes and the sweet display of affection (which of course, was not proper in the workplace) sort of melted his icy heart a little. Logic meant nothing in the way of love. 

“It’s…okay,” he answered after a pause, adjusting his glasses. “Les Miserables sounds nice. It was thoughtful of you to even put up with half of my …unconventional…idea for a date.” 

Was it unconventional, though? Many of William’s previous partners would have disagreed. Hell, even Sutcliffe had a good time at the opera, and he was the last person William would consider dating. 

“A-anyway, I’m...I need to…be on my way,” the supervisor huffed, shifting his weight to the opposite foot. “Did you need anything else?” 

“Hmmm… _ welllll _ …!”

Ronald grinned and sidled up closely to William, turning his cheek up at him and pointing obviously to it. “How ‘bout a kiss?” he suggested with a cute and boyish wink. “Right ‘ere~!”

From over in his cubicle, hunched over his computer, Grell silently pretended to gag when he heard this. Land sakes alive, was that boy serious? Besides the fact that Grell was completely fuming in jealousy, the sheer nerve of Ronald Knox to demand a kiss from his boyfriend after ditching him mid-date! What a little brat…!

William’s eyebrows rose subtly in surprise, equally caught off guard. Ronald expected a kiss after all that? He expected William to break the rules and kiss him in front of everybody after how rude he had been? 

“I apologize,” the Eurasian answered, eyes cool. “I don’t have time for that sort of thing.” He abruptly sidestepped the blond and strode off down the hall, leaving Ronald looking nonplussed. As easy as Ronald Knox was on the eyes, his behaviour last night really…bothered William, in ways he couldn’t quite understand.

William’s schedule for break went as planned, and he got his usual coffee and cigarette. However, he hadn’t planned on a tightness in his chest, a feeling of discomfort that was quite uncomfortable. Stress, he recognized. 

He was stressed because of Ronald. 

Well, maybe it couldn’t hurt to think about joining one of those extracurricular classes, like Sutcliffe had been talking about, to let off a little steam. Which one would Ronald be less likely to show up at…?

The answer to that turned out to be the ballet class.

Like Grell had said, ballet could feel particularly emasculating for male dancers, despite its origins. Ronald Knox wouldn’t have been caught dead in a ballet class, but fortunately, William was much more mature than that.

A selection of Tchaikovsky’s  _ Nutcracker Suite _ played over the speakers in the studio, and Grell Sutcliffe was present at the front of the class in a surprisingly plain outfit – a white, fitted shirt, and a pair of black tights and black ballet shoes. His long hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and the chain from his glasses clinked gently and quietly with his fluid movements. He was the very picture of elegance and grace, and made the fact that the weight of his entire body was on his toes look effortless. A crease of concentration formed in his brow, which was dotted with sweat — sweat, on Grell Sutcliffe; it was  _ completely  _ unheard of — and he took no notice whatsoever of William, even though normally his William Radar could detect the man within a 100-mile radius. There was no description for the man other than he flowed with the music so well that he  _ was  _ the music. 

The section that he was demonstrating ended, and Grell slowly landed back on his heels so that he could pause the music player. The class, which consisted of about fifteen other shinigami that was a surprisingly even mixture of men and women sitting cross-legged on the floor, immediately applauded Grell excitedly and began asking questions. Breathing hard, Grell smiled and curtsied daintily for them, and was helping himself to a bottle of water when he saw someone standing inside the studio, watching him.

To his total and complete surprise, it was William. Sure, this man was wearing dark sunglasses and was trying very hard not to be seen, but the fact that he was William T. Spears was unmistakable. The redhead perked up when he saw him, and he turned around with a smile so broad and pointy that it would have made a crocodile envious.

“Darling!” Grell cried excitedly once he’d swallowed a good few mouthfuls of water. “I’m so glad you came~! It’s so good to see you here! I see you took an old friend’s sage advice, hm~?”

William had decided to swing by the ballet class, just to scope it out before deciding whether or not he’d commit to it. There weren’t many extracurricular classes that were worth more than William’s free time, but out of gratitude to Grell for last night, and his hard work today, William would check out the ballet class. 

What he saw when he arrived made him do a doubletake. 

What was Grell doing here? Did he run this class?! William watched, dumbstruck, from the doorway as the redhead danced to the classical composition with grace and finesse like William had never seen him exude. Who knew Sutcliffe could dance like this…?

William, despite himself, was rather entranced. It really did take talent and hard work to master this skill, and judging by this performance, Grell would not have been out of place on the centre stage of a world renowned play. 

But Grell was hundreds of years old, so…perhaps he’d been doing ballet all this time. It would make sense that he was so adept, if that was the case. 

Something else that drew William’s gaze was the tight white shirt and black tights. They fitted Grell’s slender body excellently, and were much more attractive to William’s homosexual gaze than the crimson ball gown from the previous evening. Seeing a beautiful man in tight clothing dancing so eloquently like this made the supervisor’s heart start to beat quickly. That was only normal, right, no matter who the man in question was…? 

Then, Spears heard himself being called out directly, and was pulled from his thoughts. Everyone in the class was staring at him. 

“Hey, the boss is here!” 

“Yo, boss!” 

William adjusted his glasses quickly, feeling heat climb up his collar. Christ. This was utterly embarrassing. 

“I – I was looking for the karate class, actually,” he answered, gaze harshly averted, “n-not that it’s anyone’s business. Good day!” 

“The what?” Grell huffed, leaning back with one hand on his hip. “Karate class, my  _ foot _ ! Honestly, William, come in here,” he demanded as he crossed the room. “You lot do your exercises for a few minutes while I have a word with Mr. Spears in private. Shuffle the music; I don’t care.”

While the class did that, confirming Grell as the instructor, Grell stood before William with his arms folded across his chest. A piece by Mozart began playing over the speakers, and once Grell made sure their attention was on their stances, he turned back to William. 

“For heaven’s sake, William, are you leaving because I’m here?” Grell asked with a bit of a sulk and an irritated brow. “You came to try out my advice! That’s very flattering and I’m very pleased, but you don’t have to be so rude! Karate class…really? I don’t believe that for one second. You’re too pretty for that, William, and you  _ know  _ you’re too pretty and wouldn’t risk that face of yours for a king’s ransom. Just give this a proper chance, won’t you? You’ll see that I have six other men in this class, and I know for a fact that one or two of them might fancy you. …Well, of  _ course  _ they’ll fancy you,” he suddenly tittered, waving his hand as if to shoo the thought away, “they  _ do  _ have eyes!”

The redhead batted his eyes at William. “Come on, you don’t have to participate this time if you don’t want to; you can just watch!”

William frowned sternly at Grell, and wordlessly raised his hand to indicate for the redhead to stop talking, right now. 

“Please don’t assume you know me in the slightest. I happen to love karate. It’s a martial arts form heavily tied to my ancestry, after all,” he said quite coldly. “I am not as vain as you in any regard, a-and truth be told, I’d rather hone my fighting form than spend my free time prancing about like a woman. And I certainly am not going to join a class for the sole purpose of being admired, because I do not share your superficiality.”

William adjusted his glasses, rather embarrassed about the whole interaction. He was grateful that Grell took the attention off of him, but the redhead’s words put him in a fouler mood than he’d previously been in. 

“I’m glad we got that straightened out. I said I was going to the karate class, and that’s where I’m going. Good day to you.” 

Before Grell could say another word, William had turned on his polished heel and strode off, head raised loftily. 

The karate class was only around the corner, and William was a man of his word. Now that he’d said he’d try it out, that was what he decided to do. 

Grell shut up very quickly, looking like he’d been slapped in the face. His words died in his throat, and he reached out helplessly while William marched right out. Everything stung badly as it was; William insulting the physically demanding art of ballet and brushing it off as “prancing”, brushing it off as only for women (Grell hadn’t pegged him for sexist as well as a victim of toxic masculinity), insulting Grell himself – but honestly, the rejection hurt worst of all.

The redhead stared and watched William leave, heart clutching in his throat and his gut dropping unpleasantly.

“…W… _ well _ …!!” he finally huffed, hunching his shoulders and stamping a foot. “Fine! I don’t need that rotten attitude in my class anyway!”

He whirled on his heel and barked at his students: “You lot! Give me five rounds of  _ barre  _ stretches. Chop chop! Jackson, your posture is  _ horrid  _ and I’m offended for having to look at that…!”

 

———— 

All in all, William’s experience at the karate dojo was not unpleasant. 

The class was run by a sensei who worked at the London Dispatch, a slender man of indeterminate ethnicity named Meical. The sensei in question immediately became quite embarrassed when the top rung of the ladder happened to show up at his humble dojo. 

William assured him that he was simply here to observe and see if it was of any interest to him, but he was quickly roped into participating, and reluctantly changed into his gym clothes so he could partake. There were a couple of other newbies here too, and the students who had already been here awhile had their own gi already. 

During the break, the sensei took William aside. 

"Hey, so you said you’re 2nd  _ dan _ , right? Our highest rank besides myself is a brown belt. You could absolutely be one of the senpais here — I’m sure you could have plenty of knowledge to share!” 

William politely thanked the man, and indicated that while he was grateful, this was his first day here, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to commit like that. 

The rest of the class was enjoyable, and then William made his way to the men’s showers to wash off. 

Inwardly, he felt some guilt about brushing Grell off so brusquely today. William knew his own words could be particularly cutting when his ego was threatened, as it had been today. As such, he was considering texting Grell to apologize.

——————— 

Fate had a different plan for how the apology was to happen.

There was a bit of a commotion at the showers, and it seemed to be coming from the women’s. Two men were barricading the doorway and preventing someone from entering them. It wasn’t hard to see who was being harassed —  Grell Sutcliffe’s red hair was unmistakable.

“And  _ I _ told you that no one with a cock ain’t no lady, so fuck off and go use the men’s room!” the first man jeered, towering over Grell.

“Wrappin’ a skirt ‘round ya willy don’t make you no lady!” the second one added. “I can wear a wig and a crown and say I’m the bloody Queen but that don’t make me her!”

Grell rolled his eyes with incredible exaggeration, standing tall with his arms akimbo and legs defiantly apart. There was fire in his eyes and a snarl on his lips, and he looked about three seconds away from using his fresh manicure to draw blood. 

“I’m  _ hot _ . I’m  _ tired _ . I am  _ dripping sweat _ . _ I want to take a fucking shower. _ Even the Neanderthals had better manners than you,” he snapped, drumming his nails impatiently along his hips.

“If you’re going to pretend you’re a lady, you should at least act like one,” the second man sneered. “Ladies mind their language and only speak when spoken to.”

“Yeah!” the first one chimed in with a laugh. “If you’re a lady, go make me a sandwich and suck my dick!”

Grell curled his fists so tightly that all of the joints cracked audibly. “You take that back before I gouge out your eyes with a spoon and shove them up your arse —  ” he began to snarl, turning red in the face with anger.

Luckily, Grell’s threats never came to fruition. 

Before things could escalate too severely, the altercation was interrupted by two razor sharp blades embedding themselves in the doorway to the showers, right between Grell and the two aggressors. 

“Excuse me,” came the chilling voice of William Spears from a short distance away. “Sutcliffe, I know you are more than capable of handling these imbeciles by yourself, but your particular methods would cause me a lot of trouble, so I had to interfere.” 

“Shit.” The two men looked quite stricken, now that William had shown up. “M-Mr. Spears! We didn’t — we were just lookin’ out for the  _ real  _ ladies, keepin’ their showers safe–” 

“You are on Dispatch grounds,” William cut in coolly, his scythe retracting as he approached. “Therefore, your blatant discrimination towards your fellow employees will be treated as the vile rule-breaking that it is, and there will be a disciplinary hearing to determine your punishments. Furthermore, you are hereby banned from using these facilities for the indeterminate future. Now _ get out _ .” 

There was no arguing with William when he was using that tone. The men hurried out, lucky not to have been physically assaulted, or fired on the spot. 

When it was done, the supervisor let out a sigh and turned back to Grell. He felt a little less authoritative, wearing only his gym clothes, but he’d instilled fear in the hearts of those who displeased him nonetheless, so it was fine, right?

“How tedious…you’re fine, right?” he asked with a shrug, adjusting his glasses. Of course, he hadn’t saved Grell just now. In this scenario, it was the other fools who had been rescued, even if they didn’t know it. 

Honestly, Grell’s entire demeanor changed like the flip of a switch. In one instant, he was prepared to strangle two men with their own intestines, and in the next he had been rendered wide-eyed and speechless. The only constants were his red face and wildly pounding heart. Oh, god, William was  _ unspeakably  _ attractive when he got authoritative. Grell could just jump his bones, their earlier argument be damned.

Of course, he had to restrain himself. It took a few good seconds for him to recover his composure and maintain some semblance of dignity. “Y — y-yes, thank you…of course,” he stammered before he cleared his throat and tried again. “Yes. I suppose it’s fortunate you arrived when you did, or I think those gentlemen would be a few limbs fewer by now. Not so much ‘gentlemen’ as they are ‘brutes’, though. For god’s sake, it’s the twenty-first century. I thought that that archaic sort of behavior had died out with witch hunts! So pitifully behind the times…”

He sighed, resting a hand over his heart, which was still fluttering madly in his chest. “In any case…thank you for stepping in,” the redhead added quickly, his other hand nervously wrapping itself up in long, ruby locks. He couldn’t be mad about the whole karate class thing, not after this. He’d been a knight in shining armor…! Grell didn’t need rescuing, but the fact that William had chosen to act instead of ignore the spectacle and let it happen…it meant that he cared, even a little. Didn’t it? 

“Discrimination is against the rules,” William answered crisply. “I will not tolerate it.”

It was in his nature to pass off any good deed as simply following rules, otherwise people would know he had feelings, and feelings could be manipulated. Nonetheless, he didn’t leave Grell to head off into the men’s showers. He could hear more men in there already, and who was to say they wouldn’t be just as intolerant as the last few had been?

The women’s showers were silent in comparison. With this in mind, a quiet sigh left William’s shoulders.

“I still need to wash off. If you can behave yourself, I’ll accompany you in the w — in these…alternate facilities,” he murmured, adjusting his glasses.

Feeling unclean was unbearable for an obsessive man such as he. He needed to wash off, and fast. It didn’t matter where, if it was private.

Grell briefly short-circuited at the suggestion, but he quickly went along with it. “Y-yes! Of course I can behave myself,” he answered eagerly, beckoning William after him into the women’s showers. “Why wouldn’t I? Oh, my, co-ed showers are nothing to misbehave over~!” he chattered nervously, blushing almost as red as his hair.

Grell darted into a stall once he had a towel and a change of clean clothes waiting on a bench for him. He seized the tap and turned it as hot as it could go, and let the stream wash over him. It was a damned good thing that there were private stalls and not a single giant, tiled room with multiple showerheads here, because…Grell had gotten himself into quite the awkward situation. 

Such a grand display of William’s authority had gotten Grell rather hard, and this little… _ problem _ …was not going to go away on its own. In the privacy of his own stall, he could let it out and…deal with it. He bit down gently on his lower lip, suppressing a grin at how naughty it would be to secretly pleasure himself in the stall right next to William’s…well, he had no choice, didn’t he? It wasn’t going to be easy to try and change into a new pair of trousers with ‘his little friend’ so excited. Oh, god. 

“William, you’re a  _ lifesaver _ ,” he sighed, leaning against the tile wall and exhaling slowly, resting a hand over his member. For now, the dysphoria wasn’t present, so he would be able to do this with as little guilt as possible. “I mean it, you know…!”

What a coincidence, that Grell had happened to pick a stall right next to the one William had entered. This earned the redhead a scowl. 

_ Aah, this was a bad idea _ , thought William as he self-consciously removed his gym clothes and set them on the little bench near the stall door. The women’s showers were noticeably cleaner than the men’s, and much more scarcely used. 

William wondered briefly why he didn’t come here instead, before sternly reminding himself that these were the  _ women’s  _ showers. 

It was debatable enough whether Grell had the right to be in here (William believed that he did) but William…was not like Grell. He didn’t want to be a woman, not even sometimes. He had no right to be in this place. And yet, being in here, away from masculinity was…like a breath of fresh air. That definitely made him feel some kind of way, but he was not able to understand, and so he left it alone. 

William let the hot water run over his head, cleansing away the sweat and dirt from his body, passing his hands through his hair with a sigh. 

“No, you don’t,” he remarked. “You were fine on your own. But whatever you say. I just…wanted to make it up to you. From when I snapped at you earlier…I was just uncomfortable.”  

Grell chuckled, gently kneading the tip of his member between his thumb and forefinger, and gazed steadily ahead at the tile in front of him. “Well, you certainly saved my life from becoming a great deal unpleasant,” he murmured. “Between you and I, I was quite ready to slit their throats. So perhaps I should say, you’re a lifesaver because  _ those _ two are still alive.”

He glanced to the side, biting his lip a little to keep himself quiet. His eyes widened at William’s admittance, and he felt his heart skip beats all over again.  _ Goddamnit, William, must you be so careless with a pure maiden’s heart…? _

“Oh,” he said softly. “No, it’s…I’m sorry. I put you on the spot, didn’t I? I’m…well, thank you. I appreciate that a lot…that, that you’d…try to make things up to me…”

Fuck, he was blushing like a schoolgirl. God, he was glad William could not see him in that moment.

William remained wholeheartedly oblivious to what was going on in the stall beside him. He was feeling much too self-conscious to even consider that Grell was the type of person to do that sort of thing. William was highly observant most of the time, so he would have caught on otherwise. “Well, h-hopefully you’ll consider us even,” the brunet commented absently, soaping his washcloth with coconut-raspberry body wash, and proceeding to remove any trace of sweat or dirt from his flawless masculine form. “We… don’t need to discuss this again.” Neither man was looking at each other, and William preferred it that way. All debts were paid, and they would go their separate ways afterwards.

Grell smiled as he rubbed this one out, glad that the sound of the shower masked the sound of his current activities. “No, I suppose not,” he replied casually, pushing himself closer to the edge. Being a seasoned veteran of quick wanks, Grell knew damn well how to keep quiet and how to maximize his pleasure, which could be pushed further if he knew there was a risk of being caught.

When he came, his seed was washed right out of his palm by the shower, and he was left breathless as he floated down from his high. He let himself recover for a moment before he washed himself properly, glancing slyly at the shower wall that William stood on the other side of, none the wiser. That perfect man…Grell was so lucky to even be in his presence. William was a  _ god _ .

The fruitiest shampoo, conditioner, and body wash available was what Grell used to clean himself, and he exited the shower with a towel wrapped around his entire torso and another wrapped expertly around his hair and perched on his head in a cloud of fruity wonder. “I guess we  _ are  _ even,” he considered. “How disappointing to go back to normal…it’s been fun, darling.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make things interesting again,” William commented as he dried himself off and proceeded to dress inside the stall, so Grell would not be spying on him as he changed. Back in his lovely crisp work suit, he exited the stall and gave his usual frown to Grell as he passed.

He wasn’t sure why Grell was so cheerful, but he didn’t waste much thought on it.

“I… suppose I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” he commented as he combed his hair in the bathroom mirror. “Just…try and stay out of trouble, alright? Take any further disputes straight to me. I’ll have them handled. You don’t need to be disciplined for other people’s foolishness.”

Grell had dressed by now, and he perched over the sink with the towel still on his head while he carefully redid his makeup. He was silent for a moment in concentration while he applied his false eyelashes, making William wait, and only when they were properly affixed did he return his attention to his manager. “Darling, you know I’m a lady of action,” he sulked, setting a hand on his hip. “I’m not the passive sort of dame who must go running for help. Certainly I’ll make an effort to stay out of trouble! Only because  _ you _ asked me, William. But I can’t guarantee what will happen if trouble finds  _ me _ .”

The redhead went back to contouring his foundation. “I don’t…like to be passive,” he murmured. “And nor do you. We’re too proud to ask for help, aren’t we? It’s how we’ve always been, for centuries. Even if your offer  _ is  _ very sweet. You’re still looking out for me after all these years…”

“Hm. You can see it that way if you want,” William answered curtly, watching Grell cover up his natural features in makeup. William couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Grell in a natural face.

Huh. He was…rather handsome underneath it all…

William shook the thought off, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

“I have to get home. I’m behind schedule,” he announced, and with no further ado, turned on his heel and hurried out of the women’s showers. It felt like a weight off his shoulders when he was back in areas he was supposed to be in, and even better when he was finally able to head home.

Today had been quite a variance from his schedule. Things were…changing…in William’s life. He’d made the decision to let them in the pursuit of happiness. For the first time he was letting the universe take him where it chose, rather than controlling and managing every aspect of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grell issues a martial arts challenge to William in order to prove the benefits of his ballet training, and William accepts. The stakes are high for Grell, who promises not to bother William again if he loses the match.

These winds of change brought Ronald Knox to William’s office the next afternoon in a tizzy, who had heard of the women’s room incident on the grapevine. It had come to him through at least five other people — it was always a friend of a friend who knew someone that works with a guy who watched something go down in front of the women’s showers, and that William had gone in there with Grell Sutcliff. Hearing it so far removed from the source also removed most of its truth and embellished many details when they weren’t outright fabricated.

 

“Will!!” Ronald cried, bursting into William’s office, quite upset. “What’s this I’ve just heard?! Frank says that Alicia told him that _she_ heard from her roommate Ruby that Sean saw you and Grell bloody fighting at the gym? And you went into the women’s showers together?! Why didn’t you tell me? And why did you go shower with him? Someone else said you stripped naked and had a fit!”

 

Ronald Knox was a bit lacking in the common sense department, and it showed here. Clearly, he believed the things that were running through the rumor mill.

 

William looked up, going rather red in the face at the last part. One, two, three, four people he’d have to have disciplined for spreading defamatory rumours. He would not tolerate people saying such things about him.

 

“It was actually of no consequence to you, Ronald,” he answered rather testily, taking a sip from his coffee. “If it was, I would have told you. Now settle down. Just what are you blindly accusing me of, hm?”

 

He stared hard at Ronald, brows furrowed, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. It seemed not even Ronald was sure of what he’d been hearing.

 

“I prevented Grell Sutcliffe from murdering a group of men who were abusing him out the front of the women’s showers. We’d both come from extracurricular classes and needed a wash. I accompanied him lest anyone else come to give him grief, and because the men’s showers were full of men just as thickheaded. The showers are communal, Ronald, though I suppose you wouldn’t know because you do not take part in extracurricular activities besides partying.” He curtly adjusted his glasses and returned his cold gaze to Ronald’s face.

 

Ronald looked rather like he’d been slapped, and he sat (more like collapsed) into the chair across from William’s desk, sinking limply back. It was a relief that everyone seemed to be okay, and that William had _not_ been fighting with Grell _or_ had some sort of nude meltdown, but the scathing remarks and the frigid glare cut him deep.

 

“I work out,” he mumbled sulkily in his defense. “I _do_ use the gym _and_ those showers. You don’t hafta talk down at me; I know what they look like. B-but…everyone knows that Grell’s got a huge crush on you, and I’ve heard people wondering if you’re going out now. But _I’m_ the one you’ve been dating and no one’s said jack shit about me! D-do people even _know_ we’re together? I don’t want people saying that _that_ guy’s your boyfriend!”

 

William exhaled calmly, letting his shoulders relax. This was the first time he’d been outright cold with Ronald since they’d started dating, and he had a feeling it was because he hadn’t been able to open up about how — for lack of a better word — hurt he’d felt by Ronald’s behaviour on their date.

 

“People don’t need to know that we’re together. It’s our business, not theirs. Let them stick to their rumors. Maybe pay more attention to what I have to say instead.”

 

That felt a bit vague, so he followed up with, “Why are you upset that I’ve been spending time with Sutcliffe? It’s not as if you didn’t ditch me at the opera with him. That night meant a lot to me and you couldn’t sit through a single show for my sake, despite how many of your mundane parties I’ve sat through, deeply uncomfortable, just to make you happy.”

 

He couldn’t maintain eye contact with Ronald at this point, and instead turned to his stim toy to calm his racing nerves.

 

Ronald stared blankly at William, trying to process this information. “I-I didn’t _ditch_ you,” he protested hotly, planting his hands on his hips. “I told you, I was busy and I had stuff to do! And what do you mean _with_ him? Are you tryin’ to tell me you spent the rest of the show with him, too?! Why? You _hate_ him! Everyone knows you can’t stand the guy.” He turned away with a scowl. “At least at my parties we can all speak the same language,” he sulked. “I couldn’t understand a damn thing at _your_ show. How’m I supposed to know what’s going on if it’s in Spanish or whatever with all that boring classical music?”

 

William narrowed his eyes.

 

“These are things I enjoy. One would think, given how you said you wanted to get to know me, that you’d at least make an effort. In contrast to you, Grell Sutcliffe was decent and comported himself with a modicum of respect.”

 

He stood up, towering over Ronald impatiently. “Don’t complain about me spending time with him at events I enjoy if you aren’t prepared to do the same. Since I ‘can’t stand him’, I really can’t see why you’re so bothered. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

 

His feathers were quite ruffled, to say the least. It was the first time he felt genuinely angry at the blond, and his heart was racing…he didn’t want to fight.

 

Ronald leaped right to his feet, balling his hands into fists, and met William face to face. He was still shorter than his boss, and thus was significantly less intimidating, so this tactic wasn’t going to work. Instead, he had to switch gears and _de_ -escalate the situation.

 

“Babe, I just wanna have a good time with you,” he whined softly, relaxing his hands and resting them on William’s shoulders. “Isn’t that what we _both_ want? We won’t get anywhere by arguing about it when we both want the same thing…”

 

He stood on the tips of his toes and kissed William on the lips, holding close to him, but also slipping a hand down to William’s backside. Ahhh…he was so _firm_ ~

 

William blinked in surprise when Ronald changed his mind. He’d been certain that the situation was going to come to blows and Ronald was going to hit him. This had happened too often in William’s past relationships, and he was just as ready to hit back. Now it seemed that the only blows in question were likely to be of a very different type.

 

Ronald kissed him straight out, which they’d only done once or twice before, but this was different. Deeper, and far more passionate. In addition, Ronald’s hands were on William’s taut backside, eliciting a faint gasp from the stoic manager.

 

“Mmn, um–!” William wanted to draw back and stand his ground, but at the same time, this was what he had wanted since they’d started dating. Ronald could sway women and men alike, and the love-starved supervisor was going to be no different.

 

Ronald kissed William ravenously, shutting him up with it, and not giving a fuck who might peek into the office and see this happening. He held the kiss for a long time, drawing William in with it, and calmed him down with it, gently sitting themselves back down in William’s tall office chair behind his desk.

 

“I really like you, Will,” Ronald whispered into William’s ear, holding him warmly as he settled into his lover’s lap. “I don’t want to fight with you, not a bit. Can’t we just let this one go…? I wanna be with you like this…don’t you?”

 

To further emphasize his point, he gently rested a hand over William’s groin, lightly feeling him up. This was his first time actually touching William like this, so he got a little shiver from the thrill of it, liking it very much. God, William was…he was _huge_. Ronald Knox had hit the goddamn jackpot; he couldn’t wait to tap that properly.

 

All of a sudden William now had Ronald in his lap, kissing him fervently and feeling him up. The door to his office was wide-open, so anyone could walk past and see this office affair going on. Despite William’s better nature, he got incredibly hard incredibly quickly, and his gloved hands tightened their grip around Ronald’s slender body.

 

He was a perfect twink, and William (familiar with secret, passionate trysts) wanted to fuck him right then and there.  “I...I don’t, um…”

 

All he could think about was Ronald’s hand between his legs, grasping the proud endowment imprisoned behind the tight fabric of his trousers.

 

“I…I suppose…I could be persuaded,” William panted softly, his fringe falling into his eyes in the passion of their make-out session. He nipped eagerly at Ronald’s lower lip, and all of his annoyance with the younger man melted away.

 

Ronald smiled in satisfaction, suckling at William’s lips and kissing him with increasing passion, and he rubbed William through his trousers to get a good feel of how large (and how hard) the boss was getting. “Wanna take a break and go back to your place for a few minutes?” he tempted him as he kissed him, tracing a finger along William’s collar bone with feather lightness. “It’d be hard to do our best work when we’re so riled up like this, yeah? Give ourselves a few minutes of privacy…you deserve a short break. What d’you say? Let’s run off for a couple minutes…finish up what we started…”

 

To further persuade his lover, Ronald gently pushed his hips up against William’s, letting their clothed, stiff members grind tantalizingly against each other.

 

That last move, actually feeling another man’s cock up against his own after so long, utterly drained the last of William’s self-control.

 

 _I finished all my work today…I can spare a few minutes, surely,_ he told himself, a husky moan leaving his throat as his fingers wrapped around one of Ronald’s ass cheeks and pressed up against him. He felt Ronald beginning to writhe in delight.

 

“Very well. A short break,” he whispered, kissing along Ronald’s neck to further entice him and establish his control. He was incredibly eager to finally consummate his relationship with Ronald, so they left immediately, returning to William’s apartment.

 

Ronald and William made _very_ short work of each other and were back at the office in nearly half an hour. They parted ways, and it was soon time for William’s next karate session.

 

Little did he suspect that Grell Sutcliff would be there waiting for him in a set of crisp white _gi_ with a black belt. The redhead sat patiently on a cushion in the dojo, though he picked a stray thread from his gi with a look of distaste; these garments were so clumsy and not sexy at all! Wearing something like this was a mockery of his femininity, but he had a plan in mind, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on William’s face when he came in and saw who was there.

 

The ponytail came back into action at this moment, requiring at least two elastic hair ties to keep it in place, but Grell needed to be able to see and not be impeded by his hair. This was important.

 

William was sort of on cloud nine that afternoon, as he floated back to what would be his second appearance at the extracurricular karate class.

 

Anyone who knew him well (which was just a few scant people) knew this was his ‘just been dicked down _good_ ’ mood. And even though he certainly did a double take when he arrived at the dojo and saw Grell Sutcliffe sitting there, that was not going to ruin his mood.

 

“I hope you didn’t buy that uniform just to impede on my class,” William commented by way of greeting. Today he wore black knee-length tights and a matching tank top to attend the class. He certainly wasn’t about to buy an entire gi for a class he’d only been to once.

 

Still, Grell always liked to be extravagant. It was one of his less-endearing features, in William’s opinion.

 

“Shouldn’t you be at ballet?”

 

“Oh, you _do_ like to flatter yourself,” Grell tittered. “I’ll bet you didn’t know I’ve had these for the past forty years! It’s been a while, but I think I’m still more than worthy of my black belt.”

 

He got up to his feet in one fluid motion, surprisingly even in height with William without his heels, and stood before him with a confident smile. “No, these are mine, darling, and they’re nothing to sniff at. I left today’s ballet class in the hands of my TA because I have a wager for you~! Now, I’m not sure why you’re attending a _class_ when I know you’re already more than capable of defending yourself, so I’m issuing a challenge. A friendly spar, nothing more! Of course, both of us should put our all into the match, because if I win…I think I will have proved that my ballet has only improved my strength and dexterity, and I want you to join _my_ class. If _you_ win…well, then clearly I’m not as good as I thought, and I’ll leave you be from now on.”

 

He brushed a few remaining strands of ruby hair from his face, meeting William’s gaze with his crocodile grin. “I don’t think either of us have anything to lose,” he pointed out, “and this is an excellent opportunity for you to exhibit your lovely skills as a fighter. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t know that the sensei here is interested in making you co-instructor. I _know_ you’re good and I’m not going to underestimate you.”

 

It was his combat skills that Grell had fallen in love with first, after all. Being a masochist on the receiving end of William’s fists…it could still make him shudder with delight centuries after the fact.

 

William folded his muscular arms over his chest with a frown.

 

“I’m not here to show off, or to enable your need for attention, thank you. I’m merely doing this class because –”

 

He halted, pausing to choose his words carefully. “I just needed something to do, something I enjoy.”

 

He straightened up, scarcely an inch taller than Grell, right in his personal space, and bumped him in annoyance. “You said yesterday that you weren’t going to push the issue, after I helped you out. I am very disappointed to see that you’ve gone back on that statement.”

 

He wanted to be left alone, but Grell’s promise that he would be left alone if he won piqued his interest. “…Fine. We have some time before the class itself starts, so if I can get you to tap out before then, you will not promise not to bother me here anymore?”

 

“Fine by me,” Grell declared, curling a lock of ruby hair around his fingers. “You have my word. If you best me, then I’ll never come bother you at the karate class again. I’m ready whenever you are, my darling William~”

 

A few cheers and whoops rose up from the other students in William’s class, many of whom were very eager to see Grell get his ass kicked, especially by William T. Spears. They had heard legends of the sorts of brawls these two had gotten into, ands now they might catch a glimpse of those epic battles for themselves.

 

“As for going back on my word, I apologize for that,” the redhead added as he stretched comfortably. “I feel _very_ determined this time, and when I want something, I like to go after it~ but this time, I _really_ mean it. If you win, I’ll leave you alone at the dojo and go back to my own class.”

 

Grell carefully cracked the joints in his hands and wrists, settling into a ready stance. “So give it your best shot, darling,” he added with a flirtatious wink.

 

William sighed, obviously displeased by this entire turn of events.

 

He took a minute to stretch out too, then added, “there’s a few flaws in your statements. One, you would never wear anything that was forty bloody years old. Two, you clearly don’t know what you’re doing, since you don’t know that we bow before we spar as a sign of respect. You may think you can fight, but the disciplined martial art of karate is clearly very foreign to you.”

 

He took a moment to bow then, setting both hands flat against his sides, and inclining his upper body towards Grell before shifting into a fighting stance. William had no doubt that he would beat Grell if the crimson reaper fought fairly — and even if he didn’t. William practised at home every day, because it was something he’d been raised with. Grell was strong, but he wasn’t dedicated.

 

“I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” William muttered, glancing at the other karate-goers who were here to observe the match. Hell, some of them had their phones out to record it.

 

If that was the case, William couldn’t lose. His reputation depended on it.

 

“Begin!”

 

Grell turned pink at the subtle insults, curling a lip back in a sharp-toothed sneer, but he bowed stiffly and hastily, his ponytail tumbling down over his shoulders as he did so. “It’s _vintage_ ,” he muttered in protest as he straightened up. “It’s vintage, and I take care of my things. Don’t slander me before a match!”

 

Scowling in concentration, he shifted himself into a ready stance, staring William down. Bastard. As if he was one to talk, going to a dojo in _that_ and talking as if he knew everything of karate. If he was _so_ knowledgeable, where was _his_ gi?

 

He shook it off — physically, rolling a shoulder back, and then flexing his hands gently. When the signal was shouted out, Grell was the one to strike first: he darted forward, arms ready to defend his abdomen, and threw a precisely-aimed roundhouse kick to William’s face.

 

The kick flying at William’s face was swiftly crossblocked by his hands, and he leapt sideways to direct a sharp turning kick into Grell’s ribs. All at once they became a blur of flying fists and feet. Soft exclamations of awe slowly rose up from the group surrounding them. William and Grell had to stay in the sparring zone, which was definitely going to prohibit the two reapers, who were used to using the environment to their advantage when fighting.

 

William had fought Grell a few times before, but this was different. Grell had changed, become stronger, and —  

 

“– _Hayai_ –!”  he uttered under his breath, sliding back as he blocked another powerful kick at the last moment. When had Sutcliffe gotten so fast?

 

Luckily Grell was easy to keep track of with all that ridiculous red hair, and William still knew he was more skilled. He drove the point home with a dynamic blow straight to Grell’s solar plexus, which he’d left unguarded in an attempt to flip out of the way.

 

“You waste too much energy with all this flitting around,” William huffed. “You ought to conserve it as best you can.”

 

Grell was knocked clean off his feet, but he rolled with the punch and was back on his feet in no time. He took a brief moment to swipe his hand across his lip, which he had bitten on the blow and was now bleeding steadily from. His hair had begun to fall into his face and it kept him from being as fast as he knew he _could_ be, so he took a hair tie from his wrist and transformed the ponytail into a bun even while he circled William.

 

“Flitting around keeps me from being hit,” he panted, licking the blood from his split lip. Ah, god, that metallic taste…it was too good. Pain was strength, blood was life. He sucked lightly on his lip as he planned his next attack, trying to gauge William’s openings and weaknesses. Of course, Grell knew human anatomy very intimately well, and he knew exactly where organs were and how to damage them the most. Kidneys were especially susceptible to pain, and that was where he aimed next.

 

He feinted to the left, and then lunged right to throw the tip of his right hand into a powerful jab to William’s left kidney, all of his energy and strength channeled into the throw.

 

William was caught off guard with the feint, and the kidney strike radiated all the way through his body. A brief cry of pain left his throat and he didn’t even take the fall properly, landing hard on his shoulder.

 

‘ _Oooh_ ’s of pain went up from the crowd — they knew that hurt, especially if it could bring a skilled fighter like William down. The brunet didn’t even want to get up at that point, but he’d be damned if he let Grell beat him. That was a blow that he couldn’t handle.

 

Now tasting blood in his own mouth, hot and coppery, William got swiftly to his feet and rotated his shoulder in its socket. That would certainly be bruised in the morning.

 

“Hm!” he remarked, adjusting his glasses and gritting his teeth a little. “‘Friendly spar’, was it? Another of your…embellishments, I suppose. If you wanted to fight seriously, all you had to do was say so. I wouldn’t have gone easy on you.”

 

“Show him, Boss!” someone cried out. William huffed, and dashed forward again to continue.

The battle went on for at least 5 more minutes, every so often with one of them managing to strike the other. William was starting to become anxious that he might not beat Grell in time. What would happen if there was a draw? Did that mean he had to go through this tedium once again?

 

No, he had to finish this now. In that moment, William leapt off the ground like a whirlwind, his body twisting elegantly in midair, and brought his heel drilling down towards Grell’s temple. Knowing that he was more than likely to have such an extravagant move blocked, it was his turn to feint. Instead, he hooked his foot in the knot of Grell’s hair bun and drove him into the ground.

 

That was not a finishing move, so William then rolled and caught the reaper’s head between his thighs, crushing his carotids to restrict his airflow.

 

“Tap out,” he whispered.

 

Grell refused. He still had fight left in him, and he clawed instinctively at the straw mats, body thrashing like a beheaded snake. Getting his head bashed down onto the floor like that felt like something had been knocked loose, and his body reacted with a geyser-like spurt of blood from his nose. It gushed down his face like a faucet for about a half a second before slowing to a trickle, and it made quite the mess of them both with Grell’s thrashing. He quickly realized that not only was this losing him valuable energy, but worse, if he wasn’t careful he would be in danger of internally decapitating himself. Even for an immortal, that would be fucking painful and it would lose him the match.

 

A hand flew out to William’s thigh in an attempt to push his boss off, but Grell was fading fast, and he stared up at William with fierce, determined eyes…only to get caught up in the moment and realize exactly what kind of a position they were in. His head was… _in between William’s thighs_ …!

 

Well, when he said he wanted to get between William’s legs, this wasn’t really what he had in mind. Still, he went bright red, almost as vivid as his hair, and very, very quickly lost his fighting spirit, and just as quickly gained something a little more…inappropriate.

 

The tomato-faced redhead very quickly slapped a hand down on the mat a couple times, silently begging his body to not get a full erection _now_ of all times, goddamn it…! If William noticed, he’d never forgive him…!

 

William was far more concentrated on winning, but not so much that he couldn’t recognize when another man was locked tight between his legs. William wasn’t a huge fan of this move, but it got the job done when he absolutely needed a win.

 

As per the rules, the moment Grell tapped out, William released him and moved back out of the way so Grell’s head didn’t flop onto his groin.

 

The second he was able to breathe again, Grell gulped down enormous gasps of air, rolling onto his side to try and catch his breath. He coughed, one hand on his chest and the other trying to wipe the remaining blood off his face when he sat up, head throbbing where he’d hit it. Damnit…he’d really thought he’d win. But William had come out victorious, and Grell’d have to tuck his tail between his legs and never come back to the dojo, as promised. How fucking embarrassing…to challenge someone only to lose to them was just disgraceful. Between that and getting a damned boner on top of it, Grell had no idea how William would even be able to look at him.

 

He was completely disheveled; the hastily-fixed bun had come undone, and the ponytail was falling out, as well. His gi was no longer crisp and white, but rumpled and stained with blood, and his glasses were askew, though thankfully not broken. He was still breathing hard and perspiring harder (which had made his makeup start to run), and he ached – it had been such a long time since he’d ached, especially after a scrap like this. William had gotten him good.

 

So damn good that it’d given him a bloody erection.

 

They both lay there briefly while William was cheered for his win. He was quite flushed, both from exertion and from what he’d just done, and Grell looked almost thrice so. William crawled onto his knees and stared at the man he’d just beaten, pushing his dark fringe out of his eyes.

 

Given the way that Grell seemed to be shielding himself, the supervisor glanced downwards and noticed his arousal. Of course William was surprised, and both eyebrows rose to express that, but he said nothing for the time being.

“Right, well, let’s go and get all this blood off of you,” he murmured, helping Grell to his feet and turning him away from the group. “…It’s terribly unhygienic.”

 

Grell shivered and sighed, turning away from William, who was undoubtedly about to bask in his victory, but instead…the other man helped him up. The redhead looked over his shoulder at William, utterly dumbfounded, and stood up a little shakily as blood continued to drip steadily from his chin. And if he wasn’t mistaken, William was concealing Grell’s erection from the onlookers, who didn’t seem to have caught on.

 

“Wh…? Why are you helping me?” he asked blankly. “Aren’t you going to kick me out…?”

 

“What? Do you think it’s something special?” William asked shortly. “You’re interrupting their class, and I have to wash your blood off as well!”

 

He adjusted his glasses with a small huff, bashful as ever. He couldn’t say outright that he was trying to help him…

 

“I could have told you from the start that you wouldn’t win, Grell Sutcliffe. Though you were always stubborn. Stubborn enough to keep that long hair that you always knew was against regulations, which I knew I could use to my advantage.”

 

In no time at all, they were back in the changing rooms together, though it was thankfully empty now.

When the door closed, Grell stared at William with a completely blank expression, wondering what the _fuck_ kind of an alternate universe he’d fallen into. Apparently it was one where William didn’t physically kick him out after such a clear victory, or react with disgust when Grell got aroused by a fight. It was completely unreal. In fact, if Grell didn’t know better, he would have said that William really was actually _helping_ him. What could he even say? _You sure showed me? Sorry for bleeding on you? Oh my God my head was between your thighs_ ? There were lots of things and none of them were even remotely appropriate.  
  
“Get on with it,” William abruptly snapped, when the awkward staring became too unbearable.

 

Mechanically, Grell undressed, wiped himself down to rid himself of sweat, blood, and dirt, and changed into his clean clothes — his usual loose shirt and leggings for ballet instruction. His nose was still bleeding, though, so he held a wad of tissues to his face while he waited for William to clean himself up, and he did with an uncharacteristic meek speechlessness. He even kept his gaze lowered submissively, not quite feeling it in him to look William in the eyes.

 

“ _Well_ ,” he finally offered after a long and awkward silence, “thank you for not, ah…forcibly removing me from the premises. Erm…I, honestly, I wasn’t expecting not to win. But you won, so now that I’ve freshened up somewhat, I’ll be out of your hair~”

 

A deep, annoyed sigh left William's chest as Grell turned to leave. He watched him walk a few steps, quite conflicted, before finally uttering 'Wait.'

 

The brunet folded his arms, knowing that now he'd said it, he couldn't exactly take it back. "You...really want me to join that ballet class, huh. Enough to risk being publicly humiliated by me in a sparring match. If it's that important to you, then...I'll at least check it out. It might not be an entire waste of time."

 

At least William would have something to learn there, unlike at the karate class. Ballet was a completely foreign art to him, but one thing about William Spears was that he enjoyed taking on challenges, especially if they would be beneficial to him in the long run.

 

"I'll give it one go; that's all I'm promising, alright?" he added quickly, before Grell could take the offer and run.

 

Grell's eyes widened, and he slowly looked up at William in disbelief. This whole goddamn afternoon had been such a trip that he really didn't think there would be any more surprises, and yet here he was.

 

"You...you really mean it?" he asked, standing up so suddenly that he got a head rush and had to sit back down. The blows to his head that he had gotten were not going to stop being painful anytime soon, so much to Grell's chagrin, he was going to have to take it easy. He clutched his clump of tissues to his nose, glancing up at William in shock, just dreading and waiting for his crush to say he was only joking.

 

"I-if...if this is a joke, it's not a funny one," Grell added quickly.

 

William's scathing stare made it quite clear that he was not about to joke.

 

"Are you going to waste my time with anymore foolish questions, Grell Sutcliffe?" he sighed irritably, before adding “don’t make me change my mind, alright?"

 

Upon realizing that William was not joking, Grell involuntarily shrieked in delight, but very quickly forced it back, clamping both of his hands over his mouth in embarrassment. "Sorry," he whispered, parting his fingers so that he could speak. "Sorry. Let's — we'll go to my studio; the class should be over now, but I can give you a private demonstration! You won't have any pressure from an audience, so it should be more relaxing for you, right, darling~?"  
  
The brunet was relieved not to have been suddenly forced into a hug, and was about to respond when a sharp throbbing pain in his lower back from the kidney injury became apparent. Along with this was a very pressing need to urinate, so he needed to zip around the corner to the men’s toilets to relieve himself.  
  
"Whatever you say, then," he answered, followed by a quick "I just need to go to the men's. I'll meet you at the studio, alright?" It spoke to his urgency that he did not even wait for a reply before dashing off in a hurry.

 

“Ah — ” Grell began, blinking in surprise, watching William disappear again before he could properly digest it. Well, that was strange...what had set him off? Hmph...he was probably just a prude. So eager to go hide away and attend to his business! _Well._

 

The redhead sighed, lightly patting a pretty manicured hand over his pounding heart, just glad that this went as smoothly as it had. The stars were certainly shining upon him today; he didn’t think he’d ever been so lucky in his life as far as William was involved. In any case, he trusted William’s word, and made his way out the door so that he could go back to his studio.

 

Grell let himself into the empty studio — it had been a while since the lesson had ended, and his TA had done a good job of wrapping up, dismissing the students quickly, and locking up. It would be just Grell and William, one-on-one, in a private lesson. Grell eagerly hurried in so that he could set up, but before he could even get started, his phone chirped loudly in his pocket.

Puzzled, he checked it, only to discover a rather alarming text from William. It was sent in a way that was entirely William: perfectly calm and composed. It read:  
  
" _Greetings, Grell Sutcliffe._ _  
A follow-up in regards to our plans today: my urine is coming out RED. It is with no small measure of sarcasm that I thank you for the blow to my lower back during our sparring session earlier, which is no doubt responsible for this startling development. As you have probably deduced, I will be postponing today's session in order to take an urgent trip to the doctor. I would offer my condolences but alas, the blame is solely upon you for this.  
  
Sincerely,  
William T. Spears  
__Head Supervisor of the London Reaper Dispatch."_

 

Grell stared at the text in horror for several seconds, and then read it again at least twice more to make sure that he was reading it correctly before he replied. The barrage of texts he sent read as followed:   
  
“Um wtf?????????”

 

“It’s that bad???”

 

“Should I be there or???”

 

“Sorry about that :-( I guess I don’t know my own strength uwu”

 

“Does this mean that I actually won the match though? ;-) lmao”

 

William’s lack of a response brought Grell to a huffy little fit, exhaling sharply and planting his hands on his hips.

 

“I’ve been stood up!” he cried indignantly, stomping over to his private changing room in a decidedly ungraceful manner. “Teased and strung along!”

 

Of course, he knew that that wasn’t  _ true _ , but Grell loved to be dramatic more than anything else. Hyperbole was an  _ art _ to him. He was of course annoyed and disappointed that the private session had been cancelled, and so suddenly, but he did know and understand he only had himself to blame. Kidneys didn’t just destroy  _ themselves _ ; Grell had indeed dealt that blow. With a dramatic sigh and no audience to appreciate it, Grell changed into some clothes that were more appropriate for a hospital visit, and was soon out the door after William to go give him proper apologies.

 

William was predictably stubborn and reluctant when Grell insisted upon paying for the hospital visit and treatment fees. William was only there because of Grell in the first place, and the latter ostentatiously demanded it until William grew so embarrassed by the attention being drawn that he conceded and allowed it, if only to throw Grell off his back.

 

“We’re rescheduling our lesson,” Grell announced smugly as he got his bank card back, holding it between his index and middle fingers for show. “You keep me updated on this injury, and I’ll pay for anything else!  _ And _ I’ll make it up to you in other ways.”

 

“Just get me coffee and a goddamn cigarette,” an embarrassed William grumbled testily as he looked over his exam results.

 

“Mmmm~? Smoking in a hospital?  _ My _ , you  _ naughty boy _ ~” Grell crooned, delicately tittering with his manicured nails on his lips. “My head supervisor, a scofflaw?”

 

“Not in  _ my  _ hospital, you won’t,” the doctor snapped, immediately shooing them outside. “Outside with you!”

 

And that was that. Grell brought the requested (demanded) items regardless. It was an owed favor, after all. And even after all of that, the supervisor still wished to humor Grell with a private ballet lesson or two within the next few days, when he was recovered enough. 

 

Grell was only too happy to agree.

 

The next few days came and went with Grell texting William at least twice a day with something along the lines of “ _ so how about that lesson?  _ ” or a wall of dancing lady emojis as obnoxiously as he could get away with without pissing William off  _ too  _ much. About four days passed before William finally felt well enough (and sick of Grell’s complete lack of subtlety in his reminders) to take Grell up on the lesson offer.

 

Grell’s resulting shriek of delight could be heard from across the office, and William almost changed his mind right there, but Grell’s persistence and excitement forced him to go along to have at least  _ just one lesson _ . As soon as he could take his break, William changed into the same workout clothes he’d worn on the day of their match (now impeccably washed), and reluctantly allowed Grell to take him away.

 

 

"I don't have the appropriate attire," he commented uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck as he followed Grell back into the main section of the building where the classes were held. "That shouldn't be a problem, right?"

 

"Not at all," Grell replied airily, now much more easily to keep his excitement under control. "For my class, all you need are some flexible clothes and ballet slippers. What you’re wearing is fine, and I can supply the slippers."

 

Ah...but if he could train William to perfection, he could be the Princess Odette to William's Prince Siegfried...! It would be utter perfection, and Grell could die (again) happily. He wanted to see William in that resplendent prince costume in those form-fitting white tights, showcasing his beautiful and muscular legs...! Grell had to stop from fanning himself at the mental image. 

 

"Usually, I prefer leotards and tights," Grell added as he let himself into his empty studio, "But for you, I'll make an exception~ I let my students wear t-shirts and leggings at the very most, though. They're just learning, after all. But if I were running, say, a full professional production of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, that would be an  _ entirely  _ different story~"

 

William looked around the studio, which smelled like polished wood quite simply, a rich scent that made him crinkle his nose a little. "Slippers," he echoed. They looked a little bit foolish, in his opinion, but he wasn't going to complain. He had thoughts in his head of a very revealing leotard, and that didn't appeal to him at all. They closed the door behind them and headed in, with William putting his things down in the bag area before sitting down to remove his shoes.

 

"Don't worry, love, we have them in nude and in black," Grell announced as he flipped on the lights. "And no one has to wear a tutu," he added with a wink. "Not if you don't want to, that is."

 

The redhead connected his phone to the sound system, and light, pleasant classical music began to play through the speakers in the ceiling. When that started, Grell disappeared into another room, shuffling a few boxes around, and when he returned, he had two different shoeboxes with beginner's slippers inside them; one pair in nude, and one in black.

 

"These should be the right size," he told William, offering them to him while he sat before him and tied on his hard-earned pointe shoes. "Won't you try them on?"

 

Ahhhh....he couldn't wait to see William's feet inside the dance shoes' beautiful shape...! He was so slender and lithe, with the perfect ballet body! Grell kicked himself a little, wondering why he hadn't invited William to his studio  _ years  _ ago.

 

William naturally went for the black ones, which suited what he was currently wearing. He noticed his own shoes were different to the ones Grell was putting on; those were red (of course) and the toes came to a flat point. That didn't look comfortable in the slightest, but now that he thought about it, he'd heard something about the types of shoes that accomplished ballerina would wear. 

 

The black ones were comparatively comfortable and fit him perfectly. Most importantly, they were clean. William was not about to put on some sweat-soaked old pair that had been buried at the bottom of a closet.  "These fit just fine, I think...?" he murmured, getting to his feet.

 

"Good!" Grell exclaimed, clasping his hands together and rising to his feet. "Excellent. Those are brand new, and since you're just trying the class out, I'll go ahead and pay for them if you decide this isn't for you."

 

He stepped back delicately, his movements fluid and graceful, and, a little smugly, he showed William what dancing  _ en pointe _ looked like when done by a professional. 

 

"This you see here," he told him with radiant self-confidence, "is the result of daily practice, darling. I devote at least an hour of my time each day to the most basic of moves, and I have done so for nearly a century. Since we have the gift of youth, I have taken advantage of the time I have available to me to hone a skill of my choosing, and I chose this. Ahh, if only I had known the benefits of ballet sooner, though...! I might have kept myself out of a lot of trouble..."

 

William raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "You  _ still  _ can't keep yourself out of trouble," he commented with a small frown. "And I thought you were supposed to stretch before flouncing around like that." Admittedly it was impressive; everything in Grell's movements were deliberate, exact. No energy wasted, unlike his martial arts. William could appreciate this, at least. 

 

"Fine. I'll give you an hour. Astound me, Grell Sutcliffe."

 

"I've  _ been _ stretching," Grell sniffed, motioning William over to the  _ barre _ , "but you have not. And I will astound you, so let's not waste a moment! I'll get you started with these warmups. First is the  _ plie _ ..."

 

In a few minutes, Grell worked William through some very simple warmup exercises at the bar along the long wall of the studio, called simply the  _ barre _ . Grell went through each stretch with William, correcting his feet, but otherwise not touching him.

 

As William went through the exercises, watching Grell in front of him on the  _ barre  _ in mirror form to him, the strain on his ankles became quite clear. "I am, uh, not entirely sure that ankles are supposed to bend to this degree," he said under his breath. Obviously martial arts required an entirely different skillset to this. And still, Grell had managed to get quite close to winning the match. That was...impressive. 

 

Right now, William couldn't even turn his feet quite that far. Forcing it would not do well.

 

"They're really not," Grell admitted, helping William with his posture. "But ballet is a painful art meant to appear painless and effortless. Even if your feet begin to bleed, you must smile and continue as if nothing is wrong. Ballet is very much about pushing your body past its limits for the sake of beauty."

 

He smiled, glancing up at William over the top of his glasses. "The French Royal Academy designed a very strange and beautiful form of art. For now, stretch gently, and don't force it. Easy does it, darling..."

 

William stared at him for a moment. "...Well, that explains why  _ you  _ like it." And somehow, that hit home for him as well. How strongly he could empathize. How far had he gone, in the past, to achieve a perfect form...? Driven by past trauma, dysmorphic, feeling like the only way to ease his mental pain was to — 

 

All of a sudden, William blinked back to reality, realizing that his shoulder had been touched. "Hm...?" Oh, shit. This wasn't the time for that nonsense...

 

Grell tilted his head just so, gazing owlishly up at his crush. "Are you alright, dear? Your eyes glazed over for a moment." He chuckled and offered William a teasing smirk. "Perhaps you were captivated by my astonishing beauty~? Mmm? Or — don't tell me — this can't possibly be too difficult for you already? I won't hear a word of that! Now,  _ battement degage! _ "

 

The redhead's French was impeccable; it was the most romantic language in the world, after all, and like he'd said, he'd had immortality on his side to learn it. France was the fashion capital of the world. Paris was the city of love. Of course Grell Sutcliff would speak French as fluently and handsomely as a native speaker.

 

"{My god, your muscles are terribly stiff,}" he muttered to himself with a furrow in his brow. "You ought to see a masseuse once in a while! It's just heavenly, William. And it's so good for keeping yourself flexible! Dreadful, just dreadful. You're so tense!"

 

So on they went with their exercises, with William pushing the thoughts of his abrupt dissociation from his mind. Better to just focus on what he was doing and give Grell his earnest attention, like he'd promised to do — for one lesson, at least. After the  _ barre  _ exercise, they moved on to centre exercises, which weren't much different, apart from the lack of the support bar. It turned out to be that much harder, with nothing to support his weight.

 

"Relaaaax," Grell coaxed William as he guided him through a grand battement. "Keep your legs straight, darling, don't bend those knees..."

 

He could sense William's frustration, and it was quite evident on the supervisor's face. "Ahh, telling you to relax is counterproductive," Grell fussed, leaning back and considering William. "I hate to do that, but relaxing the body is vital for this! You cannot be elegant when you are stiff!"

 

He huffed a little, hands on his hips, feet in the third position, with one foot in front of the other, the front foot's heel by the arch of the other. "Honestly...it is a travesty that so beautiful a man be so tense! Thank God I'm here to change that."

 

William huffed in turn, quite unsure how this was supposed to make him feel less tense. It was painful..! 

 

He raised his arm up, let it fall, and mimicked the pose Grell was doing to the best of his ability. Maybe if he thought of something to relax him, it would come more easily. Thoughts of a quiet loungeroom, late at night with the rain pattering against the roof and the fire crackling. A warm cup of tea, blankets, and a good book. Even better, his faithful dog curled in his lap. That was William's happiest thought, and it always brought calm to his mind. As soon as he began to relax, the exercises came to him a little more easily.

 

Grell was able to see immediately when William relaxed, and he clapped excitedly to show his approval. "Good, good! Oh, Will, that  _ arabesque _ is lovely!! Beautiful, beautiful, just like that...!" 

 

William was doing very, very well for a beginner; he had plenty of strength from his martial arts. Ballet merely called for exceptional strength in the feet, and careful, precise balance and grace, as well as additional flexibility. Strength would most certainly not pose any problems for William; it would merely be training his body to push itself past its limits. 

 

Grell excitedly told William as much as he showed him the proper stance for developpe. "Oh, I know it's up to you, but  _ god _ ! How I'd love to groom you into the finest ballet dancer this dispatch has ever seen!"

 

"The  _ best _ ? Surely you'd prefer I was only second to you," William commented in faint amusement. "We know how  _ you  _ love to feel like the star. The  _ primadonna _ , one could say." 

 

He knew that ballet took many, many years to perfect, and was about to comment as much, before realizing — they were gods. They had eternity, until Armageddon.

 

Grell smirked, splaying his fingers across his lips and chin, and winked flirtatiously at his pupil. "Oh, you know me too well," he hummed, shrugging one shoulder. "I  _ am  _ the primadonna, in many ways! But if it's you I'm sharing the spotlight with, then I don't mind."

 

He flipped his hair over one shoulder, carding his fingers through the ruby locks. "You're the only exception," he announced with a nod. "For lots of things, actually."

 

William looked away at that, feeling a small amount of heat come to his cheeks. "...Like what, exactly?" he found himself mumbling as he straightened up out of his previous pose and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. He felt a little out of breath as he looked at what he supposed was now his easier, and curled his aching toes.

 

Grell reached forward to gently correct William's posture and the height of his limbs for certain poses, being very, very precise. "Well, you're the only one I'll listen to," he began, lifting William's arm and steadying him at the waist, "and many interests of mine come and go, but you've been a constant. That's just for a start! All the other managers are horrible fuddy-duddies. They're so  _ passionless _ . But, then there's you, with such a devastatingly handsome, cold glare~"

 

William bit his lip as he was touched in a manner that he felt was too intimate, but knew it was for the sake of pose accuracy. This was important. Precision was paramount. He said nothing in response to Grell's compliments and instead just focused on learning the basics that Grell was teaching him. The kidney injury he'd received from Grell the other day was starting to throb again, and William didn't want to push himself with it.

 

But a good amount of hard work later, Grell was satisfied with the lesson. " _ Magnifique _ !" he chirped, clapping in delight and applauding his star pupil. "William, you're a natural! I simply  _ must  _ add you to my beginners' class! We're already two weeks into the curriculum, but you're  _ such  _ a fast learner! You'll catch up in no time!"

 

" _ However _ ," he suddenly added sharply, looking deadly serious, "I must give you strict instructions to not attempt any  _ pointe  _ exercises outside of the class. Doing them incorrectly will result in  _ quite  _ the nasty injuries. Oh, I can't even tell you how many students I've had who got excited, tried too soon, and tore their ankle ligaments. For the love of God,  _ don't  _ try it at home...! I must drill this into  _ all  _ of my students!"

 

"I'm no fool," William commented with a frown, stepping gingerly off the main floor and onto the sidelines, where he sat down to remove the ballet slippers from his poor, exhausted feet. He examined them with something resembling a pout, knowing he'd need to get a rather prompt pedicure to repair the damage done. He'd need a lot of pedicures to keep his feet in immaculate condition. Inwardly, he wondered if Grell got pedicures for the same reason. 

 

"Well...that was certainly an experience. You are not a bad teacher, Grell Sutcliffe..."

 

When Grell sat down to remove his pointe shoes, he turned away from William a little so that he couldn't see the state of his feet — Grell's feet were swollen, bandaged, and bruised, and during this session, he'd rubbed a couple of blisters open, which were bleeding freshly. The redhead's feet were in such a state that they looked like they had been deliberately mangled. There was no visual evidence of any pedicures; after all, why go to the trouble of making your toenails look nice when the rest of your feet looked like... _ that _ ? 

 

It was the only part of himself that Grell did not consider beautiful, and he made a good effort to keep them hidden. It was a sacrifice for the level of elegance and grace that ballet called for. You could not have pretty feet  _ and  _ be a ballet dancer. 

 

"I know I'm not," Grell replied smugly to William. "I think with me as your teacher, you're going to shine brighter than the sun, darling. Oh, I have an eye for these things, you know...!"

 

Since William was already sporting one or two blisters, he peered over to see what kind of state Grell's were in — and immediately had to suppress the urge to shudder. Grell's feet were calloused and covered in blisters. This was the last thing William was expecting, and he looked back to his own feet which were slender and had previously been a podiatrist's dream. Was this how he was going to end up? With feet like a swamp witch? 

 

The idea cast doubt over William's decision to return to this class.  _ Goodness, William, you ridiculously vain bastard _ ...no. That was completely foolish; he was  _ not _ that shallow. 

 

"I have an excellent foot-spa regimen at home. It seems like you could really benefit from such a thing, if it is not too bold to say."

 

Grell flushed, immediately moving to hide his feet and hastily resting a hand over one of them. "Oh — it's ghastly to look at, isn't it?" he sighed, cheeks quite pink, and avoided making eye contact with Will. Damn, he hadn't meant for him to see — it was so disgusting. More than likely, William, who valued cleanliness and unblemished skin, would be repulsed by it. He was probably only making that offer out of pity, wasn't he?

 

"That's kind of you to offer...but I fear that the state of my feet might be beyond help at this point," the redhead said softly, quickly pulling socks over his feet. "When I practice tomorrow, they'll only look like this again."

 

"You would be surprised how much a nightly foot spa can help," William replied. "A lot of sports activities I've participated in can be quite hard on the feet. I have a mint-cucumber soak that will work wonders, if you'ld like to try it. Just an idea, in any case. I know you value beauty above all else."

 

Grell tentatively peeked out from behind his curtain of red hair, fidgeting madly with the ends of it. He was very tempted, and what William said was true: Grell was vain as the day was long, and he cared a great deal about beauty. 

 

"Mint-cucumber, you say?" he finally ventured, twirling the ends of his hair around his fingers. "That does sound so heavenly...perhaps I've been getting the wrong kinds of pedicures..."

 

William made a dismissive gesture, letting a deep sigh fall from his masculine shoulders before taking a long drink from his water bottle. "I'll bring some in for you tomorrow. Get yourself a good foot spa if you can." He stood up then, putting his gym bag over his shoulder. "I'll be off to shower and change now. In the  _ men's _ showers, as I'm sure you understand..."

 

Grell nodded, standing up with William, and easing back on his stance now that he was out of the pointe shoes. He smirked and gave William a wink as he folded his arms over his chest. "Oh? And here I was under the impression that you had the time of your life in the ladies' room."

 

Well,  _ Grell _ certainly had, anyway.

 

"In any case, I'm looking forward to that spa," he continued. "As for you — " he pointed a lovingly-manicured finger at William " — you're still so awfully tense, darling, so please see a chiropractor and a masseuse as soon as humanly possible. Is it really that stressful being my office manager...?"

 

William paused on his way out of the room, quietly adjusting his glasses. "...Your...? No, Grell Sutcliffe, you've managed to be the  _ least  _ of my problems of late," he answered, leaning his back against the doorframe and glancing over at the redhead. "It's other aspects of my life, so, p-put the thought out of your head, alright?" he huffed.

 

"Other aspects?" Grell queried, tapping a nail to his cheek in thought. More than likely, Ronald was a factor (the ungrateful little brat). "Sit down a moment, Will, dear; why don't you tell me what's on your mind? Don't tell me you're taking on one of those heavy workloads again. Are you taking enough holiday hours off?"

 

"By the by, William, you know that I am all ears if you ever want to get something off your chest," the effeminate man added seriously. "Love affairs, especially."

 

William elected not to sit down; he needed to shower, right now. But it couldn't hurt to at least answer this man's question. "I get involved with no such business," he answered crisply, folding his arms, "and you know I only take holiday hours once a year. No, my..." 

 

He trailed off while searching Grell's face. Would a man with psychopathic tendencies remotely care for William's issue? People like that were inclined to abuse animals, after all. Nonetheless, he decided to take a chance.

 

"My dog died last week. He'd been with me for years and was a very, very dear companion. I haven't been...feeling quite right since.”

 

Of all things, Grell had not expected this, and his surprise was plain on his face. "Your  _ d _ — ? Oh, darling! I'm so sorry," he uttered, his hand on his chest. Had he even known that William  _ had  _ a dog? Two things hit him in that moment: first was the realization of how little he actually knew about William, and the personal connection of that sense of loss. Usually, Grell preferred exotic tropical climate pets such as parrots and fish, which he took surprisingly excellent care of, but every once in a while came a desire for a more cuddly, furry companion. He thought immediately of his lovely, posh lady Bianca, whom he had raised from a puppy. She was only two years old, but for an immortal like Grell, her time would come very soon. Even a socially detached individual like Grell knew that pain.

 

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, a little more somberly. "He must have been a very good dog."

 

William shrugged it off, glad for at least something resembling sympathy. It was unexpected, to say the least. 

 

"...My closest companion," he commented. "I know, attaching to mortal creatures is foolish, but...living in a world of only immortal humans is such a miserable thought, one I completely cannot bear." He rolled his wrist until it made a cracking noise, then adjusted his glasses again. "A-anyway..."

 

Grell shook his head. "No, not at all — I know exactly what you mean. We all have desires for companionship from time to time, don't we?"

 

He rested a hand over William's. "We know how far we will outlive them by, but we love them anyway. They're all like our families. I have — I actually — well, right now I have the loveliest maiden in my home — she's a borzoi, and I call her Bianca. If you'd like, I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet you, William! Her manners are impeccable — I can bring her along on a lead, and I'll treat you to coffee. We can have a memorial brunch for your fellow; what do you think?"

 

William was frankly stunned, and searched Grell's eyes in barely concealed confusion. It was only after a few moments that he realized Grell's hand was on his own, and he subtly withdrew it. 

 

"I...suppose, we could make some kind of...coworkers brunch," he murmured. "I might even be free tomorrow around that time." He instinctively looked at his watch at that point, and realized he was behind schedule on his afternoon rituals. "I have to — I need to go," he muttered, walking backwards out of the room, "but Sutcliffe — well, thank you. I — I'd like that very much. Good day."

 

Grell looked up at William, surprised by his sudden decision to leave. "Oh — so soon?" he asked, unable to mask his disappointment. He recognized that sort of tic, the glance of the watch — it was William's OCD at work. He had things he needed to do, and couldn't be late. Damnit, what a bothersome thing, but poor William...he was the one who had to live with it.

 

And, Grell had to remind himself, even though William was leaving so suddenly, he was thanking Grell and accepting the invitation to brunch, which made Grell's heart pound like a schoolgirl's. "Ah — thank you!! For giving me — er, giving my class a chance!" he called as he rose to his feet and followed William. "I'll see you tomorrow, then? I know a lovely little café;  _ Café du Soleil _ ...meet me there for our little get-together?" he asked hopefully.

 

"That's fine," William called around the corner before disappearing, hurrying off to the showers. Not only was he behind schedule, but he was unclean; that sort of thing would eat away at his composure until he was quite manic about it, and that was something he never wanted anyone to see.

 

As he washed the filth from his body, it occurred to him that he hadn't told Grell he'd attend the class again, or even that he'd enjoyed it. Peculiarly, something resembling guilt flickered within him. He'd have to remedy that as soon as possible. Tomorrow, on their coworkers' brunch, for sure. Their platonic date. Christ...Ronald would kick up a fuss about that for sure.

 

Once William had gone from Grell's sight, the redhead retreated back into the studio, locking the door. He stood there for a moment, silent and motionless, before he let out a piercing shriek of joy, jumping and skipping through the studio before actually rolling on the floor, hugging himself with unrestrained glee. A brunch date! Brunch with  _ William _ ! This was the best goddamn day of his afterlife, and he was going to celebrate accordingly by screaming like a teenaged boy band fangirl. They were going to have brunch, and Grell was going to bring his dog, and they were going to have a  _ fucking marvelous time _ .

 

He couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop woop! That was a really, really fun one to write! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as we loved writing it. As always, comments and reviews are BELOVED, and thank you so kindly for the kudos!! 
> 
> \- Pieface


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, an update! Many thanks to our biggest fan, Laxi-nar~ this one's for you! Thank you so much for your dedicated readership. 
> 
> ~~Pie and Clear

The next day went as usual for William, although he was markedly sorer, and inwardly he was anticipating the brunch. In the past, spending time with Grell Sutcliffe was a nightmare, and all of a sudden, William was doing it voluntarily? This likely wasn't a good idea, but William enjoyed simple pleasures: Dogs were one of them, and brunch was another. He made sure all his business was in order leading up to the brunch break, so he could take off just a little more time today. An hour, which he'd trade for a shorter lunch. Just as he was debating whether to text Ronald where he was going, the blond bounced into his office with his usual sunny grin.

 

Ronald arrived at the opposite side of William's desk, leaning on the edge of it to be closer to William, and kicked one leg behind him as he balanced himself. "Will, Will! Let's go out for lunch today!" he chirped. "I can show you my favorite burger place; they got the best fries and you can get a free ice cream cone after your meal~ I mean, it's just soft serve in a basic li'l wafer cone, but still...free ice cream!"

 

"That's very thoughtful of you," said William, crossing his legs neatly. "I'd love to go with you tomorrow, if you'd consider it. Today I have prior arrangements, unfortunately." He looked up into Ronald's bright green eyes, and gently tapped the end of his nose.

 

Ronald's grin slipped right off his face, and he stared at William in confusion and hurt. "Huh...? 'Prior arrangements'...? Well, wh...what are you doing instead?" he asked unhappily, almost visibly deflating where he stood. He sulked when his lightly freckled nose was tapped, and he gave William his best puppy eyes. "Whatever it is, can't you blow it off and come spend some time with me...?"

 

William shook his head. "No. I cannot," he replied. More correctly, he would not. "I have a coworker's brunch planned, and you know I don't change plans if I can help it." He hesitated ever so briefly before adding, "It's with Grell. He's going to show me his borzoi."

 

Ronald lost his balance at this and slipped right off the desk, narrowly avoiding crashing to the floor entirely. He was right back on his feet, though, looking quite ruffled. "His _what_ ?!" he demanded, absolutely aghast. "Jesus Christ, Will, did you forget you have a boyfriend?! What the fuck! _My_ borzoi's the only one you should be lookin' at!" the blond cried resentfully, puffing out his chest and jabbing a thumb at it for emphasis.

 

William was momentarily taken aback by the outburst, until he realized the exact situation, and the misunderstanding that had occured. His face went completely blank, before shifting to irritation.

 

"A borzoi is a _dog_ , Ronald," he sighed, voice positively dripping with annoyance. "I'm going to see his dog, because mine _died_ , and ...?"

 

Ronald piped down for a moment, slowly flushing bright red at his misunderstanding. "...Oh," he said in a very small voice as he settled down. "Oh. I didn't...uh...I didn't know that. I never heard of a borzoi before."

 

He half-collapsed into a chair by the desk, looking away very meekly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm a real dumbass, huh?"

 

"It's fine," William answered a bit crisply, though he felt a little bit bad for Ronald inwardly. "Don't worry about it. I'm not that kind of person, Ronald. I'm faithful to the person I am with." He reached across the desk and took Ronald's hand. "Do you trust me?"

 

Ronald sulked a little at the frigidity of William's tone, but he nodded and accepted William's hand. "Yeah," he whispered back, finally making eye contact again, though his cheeks were hot. "I'm sorry for bein' a spaz. It's only Grell, anyway."

 

The blond held his boss's hand to his cheek, nuzzling it gently, and leaned over to kiss him softly on the lips. "I'm sorry I doubted you."

 

The kiss melted William's cold demeanour, and he got back up. "We'll go tomorrow, okay? You have my word. Now get going, will you? It's not brunch time for you yet, you know." Affection from Ronald made his heart feel warm; again, he couldn't help but hope that this relationship would work.

 

"Okay," Ronald sighed, squeezing William's hand before he let it go. "We'll go tomorrow. Welp...have fun, then. Pet his dog for me, okay? I didn't know he had one. All dogs gotta be petted. It's just the rules. And I know how much you love rules," he added with a wink, blowing William a kiss.

 

Then he paused, apparently remembering something, and stood up straight to clasp his hands together. "Oh! One more thing! There's a party I got invited to this weekend and I'd love if you came along, Will! This one's gonna be different and better than all the others! What do you say? Will you come with me this weekend?"

 

William considered this for a moment. "We'll talk about it later, okay? I'll say maybe for now."  Ronald had recently promised to make their last date up to him, and a party was not William's idea of a good time, after all.

 

He put the thoughts out of his mind as he readied himself for the long brunch, giving handover notes to his assistant head supervisor (and dear friend) Alan Humphries.

 

Ronald whined softly, but he relented and accepted the 'maybe'. "Alriiiiight," he finally agreed, holding his hands behind his back and shifting his weight to one leg. "I'll see you later, Will! Go have fun!"

 

Alan received the notes dutifully and gave William a warm smile. "Out to brunch, I've heard?" he asked with a hint of amusement. "Without me, even? Have you found a new best friend, then?"

 

But upon seeing the look on William's face, he laughed softly and put a hand on William's shoulder. "I'm joking, William. You're perfectly allowed to brunch with other people. You deserve a nice treat once in a while. Is there a special occasion, may I ask?"

 

William managed a smile for his dearest reaper companion. "...You know that's not the case, old friend. I'm having brunch with Sutcliffe today; he's taking me to meet his dog. I told him about Niets," he commented with nonchalance. "I actually anticipate it rather eagerly."

 

"Grell has a dog?" Alan asked in surprise. "I didn't know that. That's...surprisingly thoughtful of him, actually. Good for him! Between this, the opera, and your private ballet lesson, he seems to be on remarkably good behavior. Is this a new attempt at flirtation with you, I wonder?" he added with a teasing wink. "How interesting... _Grell_ of all people showing you consideration."

 

William went quite pink all of a sudden. This was something he'd been pressing to the back of his mind, and now Alan was confronting him with it so boldly.

 

"I — no, it's just...I mean, what I think is, after all this time of knowing each other, we're just realizing that we have things in common. That's all. And maybe it isn't so bad to let someone in, as a friend. I can't rely on you all the time; you're a married man, so your attention is quite divided," he mused lightheartedly. "Besides, I...I like Ronald..."

 

Alan considered him, putting a finger to his chin and tilting his head. He was thoughtful for a moment, and then smiled enigmatically. "I know you do," he replied amiably. "He's quite a rascal, but he's sweet deep down, isn't he? In any case, let me know how brunch with Grell goes. I'm interested to see a Grell Sutcliff who can behave himself...!"

 

William adjusted his glasses awkwardly, feeling his heartbeat had certainly picked up its pace. Time to change the subject. "When I told Ronald I was going to see Grell's borzoi, he threw an absolute fit. He thought borzoi was, well, a euphemism," he commented, knowing that his best friend would certainly find the situation amusing.

 

Alan snorted and quickly covered his mouth to muffle his laughter. "He thought _what_ ?! What a — oh, no, that poor little fool. Who on earth could make _that_ connection?" he chuckled into his hand. "Oh, dear...I think you have your hands full, William. Don't worry, you'll whip him into shape soon enough. I've got to tease him about that _immediately_."

 

"Go ahead," William agreed, patting his delicate friend on the shoulder. "I felt bad, so I said I'd consider letting him take me to another one of his parties this weekend," he added as an afterthought, heading out of the office with Alan and letting the door autolock behind him.  "I can't exactly say no..."

 

"Oh, a party?" Alan asked with interest as they left the office, carrying his folders against his chest. "Eric mentioned that Ronald was going to the same party as us this weekend. We've been looking forward to it for weeks! It's a glowstick rave! It's been a while since we've done one of those...a good change from the usual keggers we hit on the weekends. You have to shake it up once in a while! This one's going to be great! I really like the hired DJ on the roster..."

 

William blinked once, sure he'd misheard -- then he remembered, while Alan was typically sweet as fairy floss, he had a wild side that could party with the best of them. That wild side certainly extended to the bedroom as well; William recalled this from centuries prior, when they'd been a couple. Alan had been his first, and although that flame had died out (partially due to Alan meeting Eric Slingby) they were the closest of friends.

 

"W...well, I suppose if _you're_ coming, it mightn't be so dreadful," he sighed under his breath. "I'll see you later. Make sure Hanson gets those forms filed, alright? I've been more than patient and he's out of excuses."

 

"Oh, yes!" Alan replied eagerly. "I hope we can see you there! And don't you worry about Hanson; I'll make certain he gets an earful on your behalf. I'll give him a scolding he won't soon forget..."

 

A faintly mischievous glint appeared in Alan's eye, betraying his sweet smile. For such a slight and frail man, he could exude plenty of power and energy when he really wanted to. He and William had shared many memorable nights together when they had been a couple. Alan Humphries was no slouch.

 

William bid him farewell and took a portal to the human realm, where Cafe du Soleil was situated. It was a warm, sunny day in the human realm, and for once William preferred it to the rain. He always preferred sunshine when he actually had to be outside. There was an added benefit to the clear skies -- as he approached, even with his poor eyesight, he could see Grell's fiery hair being lit up in the morning light. Good -- at least he hadn't been stood up.

 

In an interesting change of events, when William arrived at the agreed-upon cafe, Grell was already there, waiting for him. He was sitting outside at a small table, sipping a hazelnut cappuccino in one delicate, gloved hand, and with the other, ungloved hand, he stroked the head of the loveliest and fluffiest white dog to ever grace the Earth.

 

Bianca wagged her curled tail softly, pushing her head into Grell's hand, and there was a tender expression on Grell's face as he rubbed behind her soft ears or scratched under her long chin. She looked up at him with her large, dark eyes, like a doe, giving her master her full attention and devotion. Her collar, naturally for Grell, was red and sequined, and rested loosely and proudly around her neck, and a thin leather leash was affixed to it, though Grell did not hold it. Bianca was an exemplary lady and would not go anywhere she was not meant to.

 

"Good morning, Grell Sutcliffe," said the dark gentleman as he came to a standstill at the table. It was only after a few seconds that he actually noted the presence of the absolutely majestic white Borzoi sitting at Grell's feet.

 

" _Oh_ ," William uttered, sinking into a sitting position. "Grell, is this really yours?" Bianca looked up at him curiously, and those big brown eyes won William's heart _instantly_.  She was like a cloud, or some ethereal cross between a unicorn and a dog. What a beautiful, regal young creature. A princess, surely.

 

Grell utterly _beamed_ at the expression on William's face; he knew that his princess had already stolen William's heart. The lovely dog minded her manners, staying where she was, but she was clearly interested in William and happy to see someone new.

 

"She is," Grell replied with a toothy grin. "Isn't she a treasure? This is Bianca. Bianca, darling, will you say hello to William?"

 

The dog immediately rose to her feet, tail wagging, and she stepped daintily toward William, nosing softly at his hands and snuffling him. She delicately licked at his gloves with her little pink tongue, and she looked up at William with a dog's smile. The way she moved, Grell thought, made him think that if a Tolkien elf could be translated into Dog, it would be Bianca the borzoi.

 

William was taking his gloves off before he even consciously thought about it so he could let her sniff him with her tapered nose.  "Hello, lovely," he murmured, hearing his voice waver and crack. Bianca was such a stark contrast to Niets, a scrappy old mutt on the short and stumpy side, but seeing her tugged his heartstrings in a way that hurt. He missed Niets, his most faithful friend who would never, ever leave him.

 

Without warning, he felt on the verge of tears, and this was not a place he wanted to be in company.

 

Bianca nuzzled him warmly, her cold, wet nose bumping up against William's fingers and licking them eagerly.

 

"She likes you," Grell told William with a smile, noting the waver in his voice and the pain in his eyes. Losing a pet...he knew that hurt. But he didn't know how to comfort William, not wanting to get too close and scare him off again. Bianca, he hoped, might bridge that gap and provide the comfort for him. "She's very good about being touched, William, so if you'd like to pet her and embrace her, you may. She'll be perfectly comfortable...oh! And she'll shake your hand, too! Bianca, shake."

 

And on command, the lovely dog raised a sweet, slender little paw and held it up for William to take. Even her nails were perfectly trimmed, and the pads of her feet were soft; Grell took particular care to treat her to a groomer every week. The dog was the very picture of luxury and beauty.

 

William was grateful for the sunlight to reflect off his glasses, hiding his teary eyes from Grell's view as he leaned down to shake her paw and stroke her head.

 

This wasn't how he expected today to go, and he knew Grell could tell that he, William Spears, the Ice Prince, was ridiculously emotional about this encounter.

 

"She's perfect," he whispered, eyes brimming.

 

"I know," Grell boasted with a smug smile, climbing off his chair and slipping over to William's side. "I found an angel. The only maiden I'll ever give my heart to."

 

If William had been anyone else, Grell would have left out of disgust. Emotional sentimentality was something that turned him completely off to other people, but when it was William...it was different. For him, and him only, it was to be protected. It was a precious, rare side of William that was rarely seen.

 

It hadn't always been so; back in their academy days, Grell had beaten Will within an inch of his life because of perceived weakness. William, the apathetic, passionless student who had only done the bare minimum to pass his courses. The William that Grell had initially fallen in love with had been cold, calculating, and powerful. Grell still loved that William beyond compare, but he had also grown to love the man's secret tenderness. Seeing him now, holding back tears as he interacted with Bianca, was everything.

 

Before he could stop himself, he leaned over and embraced William warmly around the shoulders, just trying to absorb any of William's love and tenderness for himself. Bianca just looked up at the both of them owlishly, and, sensing her master's feelings, gently headbutted William to nuzzle him and offer more dog kisses.

 

At the abrupt physical contact, William went very stiff. "Wh — what are you doing?" he cried softly, though without drawing back. He'd been caught completely off guard. Once upon a time he'd been acutely attuned to whenever the redhead might try to launch himself at him, ready to kick him sharply into the nearest building. All those times, it had been an attempt at intimate physical contact with William, nothing more. Was that the same case now?

 

Grell just squeezed William around the shoulders, hugging him from where he sat, confidently keeping his beloved close. "I'm comforting you, silly; what does it look like I'm doing?" he teased, gently rocking William back and forth. "Don't tell me you've never had a hug in your life! Poor man!"

 

Bianca would have rolled her eyes if she'd had the sentience to do so. Instead, she just neatly licked William's fingers because this was someone her master liked very much. Anyone who her master liked was someone _she_ liked.

 

William quietly wiggled out of the hug, heavily flustered, and wiped behind his eyes. "D-don't be ridiculous, of course I have. But you're...not the comforting type." He scratched Bianca under the chin and patted his thigh, and the elegant borzoi hopped up into his lap. This was the only kind of hug he wanted right now.

 

"Do you mean to say I'm not nurturing and comfortable to be around?" Grell demanded in mock offense, baring his sharp teeth and huffing dramatically. Bianca just ignored him and focused instead on William, licking his face happily. Grell couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning back in his seat and stroking Bianca's fluffy shoulders instead.

 

"Well, she does a better job, in any case," he conceded. "And she doesn't even have anything to say."

 

William sniffed subtly, clearing his throat. "Let's just say I've known you long enough to know the only reasons you bother to touch people are bloodlust or sexual desire," he explained, "and you know I'm with someone. Aah — a long black, please," he added to the waiter who came to attend him.

 

"Cherry pie," Grell requested to the waiter before he returned his attention to William. "And I'll have you know that I have more facets to me than that. I'll certainly comfort a friend in need!"

 

The redhead smiled, but it wasn't his usual sharklike grin. "I know you, and I know how I am. But this time, I can promise that none of this was any attempt to get in bed with you, darling. I know you like Ronald, and I'm not going to get in the way of that. If he makes you happy...that will be enough for me."

 

It wasn't enough, not really — it still hurt to see others making William happy and never Grell. Bianca gently nuzzled Grell, and he absently stroked her head in response. "In any case! I'm just trying to be a friend. I understand if you're suspicious, but I promise that you needn't be."

 

William folded his arms a little defensively. Grell had broken a promise just the other day, and although William didn't care a great deal, he didn't open up to people he couldn't trust. Yet...what followed had been a wonderful experience, and maybe to Grell it had been worth it to break a promise to make William happier in the long run.

 

"This...makes me happy," he said simply, unfolding his arms and stroking the dog's silky coat affectionately.

 

Grell relaxed, and he joined William in lavishing Bianca with affectionate attention. "I'm glad to hear you say that," the redhead hummed, perfectly content. "Of course, you of all people deserve at least a little happiness now and then. We should meet like this more often and honor my lovely princess with your presence. What do you think?"

 

William soon relaxed, gently wiping dog saliva from his face with a moist towelette he withdrew from a packet inside his coat -- he was prepared for any occasion. "You've been very gracious, Sutcliffe. I apologize for my wariness; you deserve a little more trust than that."

 

When he'd received his coffee, he followed up with a small gesture of kindness: actually ordering something to eat, rather than the commitment free scenario of simply ordering a coffee. While the suit-clad supervisor nibbled gracefully at a thin, elegant slice of chocolate mud cake with a beautiful white-chocolate rose atop, he chatted lightly with Grell, feeling the weight of the week slowly ebbing away.

 

"Ahhh, you flatter me~" the redhead cooed. "I suppose you could just say I've become a mature lady~"

 

While Grell enjoyed his slice of cherry pie, he took immediate notice of a fact about William: a self-aware beautiful man would of course only surround himself by beautiful things, and of course his food was no exception. The cake was extraordinarily pretty, and Grell thought it suited him perfectly. A sophisticated dessert for a sophisticated man. Grell would expect no less.

 

"Your Niets sounded like such a handsome and loyal fellow," Grell commented fondly. "I'm sure my Bianca would have gotten along quite well with him. Ah, it would have been just like _Lady and the Tramp_! How darling~"

 

A slow smile touched William's features. "Hm...that would have been a sight," he mused, sipping his coffee. "I expect after a while, I may adopt again. There may come a day where we could walk them together in the park a few blocks over. I like it there; it is both pristine and tranquil."

 

Then, in contrast, he thought of the rave that Ronald was insisting he come to, and a frown crossed his features.

 

"Grell Sutcliffe, I do not suppose you _also_ intend to go to this 'rave' nonsense come Friday?"

 

"Oooh, I'd love that," Grell exclaimed, clasping his manicured hands together. “I'm sure my little princess would too; she _loves_ attention and isn't _that_ a fine way to show off!"

 

The next query, however, was not one that Grell had expected. "Oh? The rave Friday night? Now that I think about it, I _was_ invited," he mused, leaning back in his chair and tapping his lips. "I've been considering it. It might be fun to break away from my usual weekend activities and let myself go _really_ wild~! But why do _you_ know about it?"

 

But it only took him half a second to realize: "Oh — Ronald must have mentioned it, is that right? He _never_ misses _those_ kinds of soirees."

 

William huffed a little, setting the fork down on his empty plate.

 

"Yes. He mentioned it," he answered, unsure if he wanted to outright confess he had been coerced into attending. "Alan is going as well. I don't really have any interest in these kinds of things, myself, but it seems like everyone is going. Call me old-fashioned, but...I'd rather stay at home and relax in the spa with a nice book," he murmured conversationally.

 

Grell tilted his head. "Well, I'd imagine so. You always did prefer the quiet, like an old man," he commented with a little giggle and a coquettish sidelong glance. "If your eardrums didn't burst first, I imagine you'd be _dreadfully_ bored, darling. It's not very intellectually stimulating or relaxing. But, on the other hand, Ronnie has introduced me to a few very fun, ah, shall we say, _stimulants_ , when I've accompanied him to these raves. I've found them to be enjoyable enough. It might even make the experience enjoyable for you, too, you old fuddy-duddy~"

 

He winked, sure to let William know that the teasing was playful.

 

William narrowed his eyes.

 

"No, thank you. I choose dignity," he responded curtly, reaching out to stroke Bianca's head. She instinctively nuzzled him and wagged her tail in delight.

 

"You'll never see me bothering with anything like that. Having no control of one's inhibitions...what a terrible thing that must be."

 

As if on cue with his serious tone, a faint growl of thunder could be heard in the distance, and the wind was beginning to pick up.

 

Grell raised his eyebrows just a little and pursed his lips, but he nodded a little, taking the last sip of his cappuccino. "Fair enough," he replied, brushing his hair from his eyes, only for the wind to muss it up again. "Ahh, rotten wind; I hate it," he added with a grumbled. "I like my rain _without_ a gale, thank you."

 

At that moment, William's phone began to vibrate and light up on the table, bearing a text from Ronald.

 

' _willi 'm frerakin out rn i neeed y,ou_ '

 

William stared at the text for a minute, brows furrowed. Ronald appeared to be in some kind of distress....? The supervisor adjusted his glasses and made a brief response:

 

' _Where are you? What's wrong? — William_.'

 

He glanced up at Grell, who was feigning disinterest in the text a little too obviously.

 

"Our next lesson is on Monday, right?" he asked, putting money down on the table for the food and slowly rising to his feet.

 

Grell's look of intense interest in his fingernails changed completely. " _'Next'_ lesson?" he repeated incredulously, turning and facing William in shock. "You — ! Y-you want to come back?"

 

Another buzz of vibration, a gentle little tinkling of crystals as an alert sound.

 

' _hidin gudner ur d,sek yhnders too loud_ ' '

 

_'thnuder'_

 

' _im'g onna die i'mfu cking scared_ '

 

William rolled his eyes a little.

 

"Well, the other day was not...terrible. A-and...I really appreciate... _this_ ," he huffed with a vague gesture at the table and the dog. Hell, why was it so difficult to express himself? Hopefully, Grell would understand.

 

It was then he glanced at his phone again and saw Ronald's scarcely-legible nonsense text. It caused a flicker of fear in his chest, and William found himself biting his lip. Ronald needed him — he had to go.

 

"Unfortunately, I have to leave — something's going on with Ronald. A-again, thank you," William said quickly, backing away from the table. He adjusted his glasses once more, followed by briefly fluffing his fringe.

 

"Good day to you, Grell!" he called, before striding away, unable to mask his concern for his boyfriend.

 

Grell _did_ understand...sort of. It was clear enough. But still, Ronald took precedence for William, and their meeting had to be cut short. The redhead very slowly sank down in his seat and nodded, and his dog gently nuzzled his hand to comfort him. Grell absently stroked her in response, watching William gathered his things and hurried away. The brat had taken away another moment from them...

 

"I'll see you Monday, then," he called halfheartedly, not bothering much to raise his voice. Maybe they would have another chance at a special moment together during _that_ lesson instead.

 

William hurried away in a brisk yet dignified stride, making himself a portal back to the Dispatch HQ to search for Ronald.

 

He'd been having a pleasant time at brunch with Grell, so if this was some elaborate attempt from Ronald to get his attention, William was going to be pissed.

 

But arriving at the office, it became clear that the storm was right overhead here, rain was pouring, and while things were operating as normal (why wouldn't they? It was a mere thunderstorm, and personally William loved them), Ronald was not at his designated desk.

 

The supervisor didn't pause to let anyone fill him in on matters that required his attention yet — this would be one of the very, very rare incidents in which he put something ahead of work, and only because it felt urgent.

 

He made a beeline for his office, and as soon as he'd closed the door behind him, he circled around to his side of the magnificent mahogany desk and knelt down.

 

There indeed, was Ronald Knox.

 

Ronald was curled up underneath the desk in the fetal position, clutching his hair tightly in one hand, and his phone in the other, pressed against his cheek. He was white as a sheet, except for his eyes, which were red and wet with tears that streamed continually down his face. The moment he saw William, he sobbed and reached out to him, pawing blindly at first until he caught William's arm, and pulled himself closer in a desperate hug.

 

The blond wouldn't have even known how to fake something like this. He was shuddering deeply from head to toe, and was so frightened that he couldn't even speak. In addition, the front of his trousers appeared to be soaking wet; he'd literally had the piss scared out of him.

 

"Will," he choked, clinging tightly to him like his boss was a lifeline. " _Will_..."

 

William was speechless. _Holy hell_. Ronald...couldn't be faking this. Not in a heartbeat.

 

"{ _Uh_ }...it's — it's okay. I'm here, Ronald..."

 

William didn't even know where to start with this, apart from letting Ronald pull him in close for a desperate, panicked embrace, and allowing him to weep into his arms. The poor boy looked positively traumatised.

 

With this in mind, William found empathy. He _could_ help, surely...

 

"Come here, I've got you," he murmured, wrapping his strong arms around the blond, since that was what he seemingly wanted.

 

Ronald wept into William's chest, holding him tightly and trying to regulate his breathing without much success. He was still breathing very quickly, and his lips and nails were starting to look a little blue, his extremities growing numb. All he could do was just slowly nuzzle William and let himself be comforted by William's warmth.

 

"T-thunder," he whispered, eyes wide and wet, as he clung close to his boss. "Too loud, d-don't like storms. Too close, too close...I thought it was an explosion..."

 

WIlliam cradled Ronald close, stroking his soft hair. "I know," he murmured. He recalled from Ronald's file that his death — his suicide — had been on the night of a severe thunderstorm, and it was very natural that this boy would become upset due to resurfacing memories. A trigger. William had plenty of them himself.

 

"Don't worry; it can't get to you in here, and you're safe with me. Your fears are wholly irrational. Just take deep breaths, and you'll begin to calm down."

 

Ronald sobbed weakly again, nodding faintly, and clung to William's jacket lapel to hold onto him, and touched his soft hair to ground himself. Everything had come back; the fear, the hopelessness, the crushing weight of his human life, the moment he heard that thunderclap. There was a shiny red burn all across his hands; he'd been fixing himself coffee in the break room when it had happened, and he'd been so badly startled that he sloshed the boiling hot drink all over his hands. He didn't even notice that pain because of how powerful his terror was.

 

Before William, he usually tried to kill himself when thunderstorms rolled by; sometimes he was stopped, and sometimes he succeeded (only to regenerate again, since being a shinigami was his punishment for taking his own life in the first place). This time, his instinct had been to flee to William's side. This was significantly nicer; he didn't want to die as badly.

 

He followed William's instructions, trying his best to draw in a long, shaky breath, to at least _stop crying_. It was hard, but William was making it sound possible.

 

It was no easy feat. As soon as William managed to calm Ronald down a respectable degree, lightning would strike and Ronald would panic all over again. But eventually, William's presence lulled Ronald into a peaceful state.  "Shh...you're doing fine. You're doing so well," he assured him. "Do you feel better? My dear...let's get you a drink of water...it'll do you good. We can treat your hands, and...I...I see you've had, a-a bit of an accident, but I might be able to find you something to wear. Alright?"

 

Ronald sniffled miserably, red in the face. "Okay," he whispered, holding on tightly to his lover. "I'm sorry for all this. I feel like, like a little kid...c-can't believe I pissed my fuckin' pants...I know everyone saw. No one's gonna let me hear the end of it, Will."

 

He leaned heavily against him. "Usually I watch the weather real close," he sniffed. "But this snuck up on us. I thought it hit the building."

 

"I won't allow it," William answered, finally drawing back. He'd been crouching to avoid the mess, and now his limbs were terribly stiff. It was relieving to stand up finally. "They'll leave you be." Most shinigami had a mental weak spot. Unless you were working with some truly nasty folk, typically they were kind to each other when those weak spots were touched upon.

 

He ushered Ronald into his private bathroom, letting the trembling young man wash his scalded hands under the tap.

 

Ronald sniffled again while the wonderfully cold water washed over his hands, which did feel very nice, and let the water run for a long time. When his hands felt a little better, he splashed his face with the cold water too, trying to rinse away his tears and snot and make the redness go away. Between that and the fresh pants and underwear, Ronald was looking sharp again in no time.

 

He rubbed at his eyes a bit, leaning against William once he was dressed and calm again, and held his hand. "Will...thank you so much," he mumbled. "I know you were havin' your brunch with Grell. Was it nice?"

 

William nodded, guiding Ronald over to the little couch in his office, where he'd prepared two hot coffees. He sat down with his man and stayed close, as the storm was still present.

 

"I did. I had an excellent brunch with him. But you needed me, so of course I came," William murmured, eyes averted bashfully.

 

"Thank you," Ronald whispered again, leaning against William with his coffee in hand. "I really...really appreciate that. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come."

 

Well, he _did_ know, but he really didn't want to think about it. William didn't need to hear it either, he thought.

 

"So I'm glad you did," he eventually mumbled. "I'm sorry for interrupting that. I still dunno what kinda dog a borzoi is, though. Knowing Grell, probably real fancy, huh..."

 

William nodded, a faint smile on his face. "She certainly was..." But the brunch...couldn't compare to this. This was really something.

 

He leaned over and kissed Ronald's cheek, feeling peculiarly affectionate. Right now, he felt like there might really be hope for their relationship, beginning to open up to each other more emotionally.

 

"You don't need to be afraid when I'm here, you know. I _will_ keep you safe."

 

Ronald smiled weakly and nodded, accepting William's kiss and giving him one in return. "I know you will," he murmured back, using William's shoulder as a pillow. "I _feel_ safer with you. With you...I know nothing'll happen to me."

 

Honestly, Ronald felt lucky as hell in that moment. He'd _never_ had a boyfriend who made him feel so secure, or who rushed to his aid so quickly. It was magical.

 

He was permitted to stay in William's office to do his work for the duration of the storm, and little more on the subject was said. Occasionally, one or two people would peek in the windows to see if Ronald was feeling any better, but no one entered William's office without a very good reason, so they were left in peace. William was feeling elated; here with his boyfriend who had finally shown his true vulnerable self, rain pattering firmly against the windows, coffee in his belly and being able to work in soft placidity —  what was not to love?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William reluctantly goes along with Ronald to a much-dreaded party, and things seem to take a turn for the worse when it turns out to be a glowstick rave. It can't get worse than THIS, can it?

Things were very nice between William and Ronald after that. They were rarely away from each other's sides for the next few days, and Ronald usually had a dopey, smitten look on his face whenever he was with William.

 

Grell wanted to gag.

 

Friday night came, though, and Ronald was waiting for William inside the club for the rave. The bass thudded deafeningly loud and rattled everyone's bones, and it was pretty damn difficult to hear anything else. The blond had dug up some old rave gear he'd saved from the 90s, and he kept it all in surprisingly good shape. A skin-tight, neon yellow mesh shirt and JNCO wide jeans that were so impossibly baggy that it was downright fucking miraculous that he didn't trip with every step was his outfit of choice. Of course, he was also decked out in plenty of glow sticks, but he'd made the bizarre decision to spray paint his hair a truly horrendous shade of green and spike it up rather than keep his cute, fluffy waves. A single clip-on hoop earring, a backwards baseball cap, and light-up sneakers finished the look. The very worst of the 90s had shat itself out onto one person, and that was Ronald Knox.

 

He was also very impatient, wondering when William was going to appear.

 

There was no getting out of the situation. 

 

The closer William and Ronald had become, the more insistent Ronald grew that his stoic boyfriend attend the rave with him. 

 

'Dress in anything wacky, bright, neon!' Ronald had advised. William owned nothing of the sort. The closest thing he had to offer was a loose chartreuse-green t-shirt and tight, acid-washed black jeans paired together via suspenders, and simple black Derbys. 

 

When he arrived at the event, actually stepping inside, he thought the immense, overwhelming soundwaves might just vibrate him off this plane of existence. 

 

Oh, this was going to be a  _ long  _ night.

 

"You're wearing  _ that _ ?!" was what they both uttered upon laying eyes upon each other — even though Ronald absolutely loved this outfit of William's, it was was better for a date at an amusement park than at a rave. At a rave, it was just...boring. Dull. 

 

"Awww, Will, you didn't have  _ any  _ wacky stuff?" Ronald fussed, pulling his date closer. "Did you save  _ anything  _ from the 80s or 90s? Even a charity shop woulda had something..."

 

It was William who spotted Ronald first, and it had taken him a solid twenty seconds to recognise him before he made his utterance. In fact, the only remnant of the blond from work, whose tight and handsome suit had always appealed to William, was his large, thick glasses. 

 

William's eyes hurt just looking at him. 

 

"I — isn't this — ?!" He gestured to his t-shirt with its highlighter-green tones. "It's bright green! What do you  _ mean  _ it's not...'wacky'?" he practically shouted, folding his scarred arms across his chest self-consciously.

 

"Just wearing a bright shirt doesn't make you look like a raver!" Ronald complained, pulling William further into the club. "Everyone wears bright colors these days! You look normal! You were supposed to be all crazy 'n outrageous! Don't worry, I'll get you some bouncy antennae and glow bracelets so everyone'll think you're just being ironic."

 

_ Ah, poor William _ , Ronald thought.  _ Still an old man at hear _ t. He needed to lighten up a little...!

 

So of course Ronald soon fetched a neon green headband with two little plastic disco balls mounted on springs with it, as well as a whole pack of glow necklaces and bracelets. The blond eagerly helped William into the rave accessories and beamed up at him. "Perfect! Now you'll fit in! These suspenders are so sexy, Will!"

 

William felt foolish as hell, and yet, this allowed him to actually be noticed less. All in all, that was what he wanted the most out of this night. 

 

"I-it's so loud," he grumbled, shoving a few more glow bracelets onto his marred forearms. Gods, he hated short sleeves. 

 

The music here was highly upbeat, techno nonsense.  _ Were there even any instruments involved _ , William wondered,  _ or was it all made on the computers these days? Whatever it was, it couldn't compare to the old classics. _

 

Not only was it loud, but it was an assault on the eyes. Everyone in the crowded room was wearing impossibly bright colors, the dim room was filled with smoke machines, strobe lights, black lights, and rotating color projectors nearly everywhere they turned. The air was thick with the smell of so many bodies in close proximity, most barely clothed, some grinding, and many of them high as kites, filling the atmosphere with the pungent smell of sweat, weed, and alcohol. On top of all of this, the ceilings were a bit low, adding a somewhat claustrophobic sense to it all. Ronald had not chosen this venue well as a place to bring William.

 

William wasn't doing well. 

 

He didn't dance. He couldn't — not like this. Within ten minutes of being in the building, the low ceiling, smoke-filled room, and cacophonous tones pushed him well into sensory overload. Soon he even lost Ronald, who was dancing his youthful heart out to some electronic trance song. 

 

This wasn't a place for William, physically or mentally. People were sweaty, bumping into him from every direction, and he hated being touched unwillingly. It took him no time at all to hurry outside, feeling like he'd been underwater drowning and this was his only chance at fresh air. He gulped it down eagerly and sat on a brick garden wall, feeling vaguely nauseous. 

 

Damn it...

 

Ronald easily lost track of William, too absorbed in his own fun this time to take notice of William's discomfort. While he continued to party inside, two familiar figures approached William outside, happy to see him: Alan and Eric, both decked out in the wildest outfits they could get away with.

 

"William, you're here! I never imagined you'd be here!" Alan exclaimed, trotting up to William in quite a skimpy black leather outfit. Black leather booty shorts, a cropped, belly-revealing vest, military cap, and thigh high heeled boots were his outfit of choice for the night; he was positively kinky.

 

William did a double-take when he saw his two coworkers, dressed in a manner that William thought appropriate for an underground sex dungeon. Sweet, petite Alan and his bear of a husband, Eric Slingby, who was in combat boots, excessively zipped leather pants, neon spiked bracelets and a leather vest. The two were, of course, completely adorned in glow accessories. 

 

"Oh. It's you two," William commented, unable to muster even the falsest of enthusiasm. "Ronald's inside. I'm sure he will be glad to see you."

 

"Awh, ye donnae look tae be havin' too much fun yerself, Will," Eric commented perceptively. They could see a man incredibly out of his comfort zone to please someone he loved, and they sympathised.

 

Alan sat down next to William for a moment, beckoning Eric to come closer. "You look ill," the frail man commented worriedly. "Is it too much for you in there? I can feel that bass line even from out here. Where's Ronald? Shouldn't he be with you?"

 

"Ah, love, we should give 'im some space, aye," Eric said gently. "Let's not be crowding him, now..."

 

"I...I'm fine, thank you," William answered quickly, not wanting to be seen as vulnerable by his friends. "I'm just getting some fresh air, then I'll get some water. Thank you for your concern." 

 

Frankly, it was humiliating that he felt so overloaded being here. It would be best to go inside and man up.

 

Alan pursed his lips, knowing how William could get when he was unwell — silly man, always trying to hide it. But Alan let it go, for the sake of William's pride and confidence, and did not press the matter. "Alright, Will," he replied cheerfully. "Then we'll see you in there, okay? I'm glad to see you, so have fun!"

 

"Ha, this is great," Eric commented as they let themselves inside. "Our boss is so cool~"

 

William waited a few minutes before heading inside. He used his superior height to peer over the throngs of people and locate the bar, but before he could start wading through the crowd Ronald abruptly appeared before him holding drinks. 

 

"O-oh, there you are," William uttered. "I couldn't find you..."

 

"I couldn't find  _ you _ !" Ronald exclaimed, offering William one of the drinks. "I'm glad you're in one piece! Here, I brought you something to help you relax. I'm not really sure what you like yet, so for you I ordered a White Russian. Mine's a screwdriver, if you'd rather swap!"

 

"Ah; this is fine," William answered, faintly relieved to have located his partner. "I'm partial to vodka, as it happens." The latest song had ended, and he could actually hear himself think, so he wrapped an arm around Ronald and downed half the glass. It was smooth, and warmed his stomach as he drank it. "This was...thoughtful of you." Had Ronald really been concerned about him? How nice.

 

Ronald snuggled up with William and held onto him in turn, downing his own drink, appreciating the orange flavor to offset the vodka. "Not at all! I figured it might be a bit much since it's your first rave, so you probably wanted something to drink, right? I'm glad I got you something you like! You'll have to tell me what you like so I can order for you when we go bar hopping."

 

"Bar hopping," William echoed in faint dismay. "Right." That sounded like another thing he was too old for. But then...who could really tell? He could be 40 while every other person here was over 300, even if they only looked like they were in their twenties. Still...he was over 800 at this point, and he'd wager a bet that everyone here was under 300. It was an incredible difference. 

 

He just stuck close to his partner and finished his drink, hoping it would ease his neuroses and allow him to relax. Strangely enough, it was already feeling like it was working already...

 

The rave was in full swing by the time Grell Sutcliffe arrived. Fashionably late, he sashayed in with a very 60s, Amy Winehouse-inspired look — broadly winged eyeliner and an impossibly high beehive hairdo, complemented by a skintight, red plastic minidress and matching platform gogo boots, which he walked in like a goddamn queen. He helped himself to the bar very first thing to order his usual Bloody Mary, and when he had it, he swiveled elegantly around on the barstool to survey the crowd. He was on the prowl; he'd find a beautiful man to take home and do unspeakable things to.

 

That was the plan, of course, until he spotted William T. Fucking Spears pole dancing on a table in front of God and everybody. Grell very nearly spat out his drink in shock, adjusting his red glasses in a hurry to make sure he wasn't just seeing things.

 

"Oh, what in _ gay hell _ — "

 

Grell was  _ not  _ seeing things. 

 

True as demons were ravenous scum, William was on one of the dancer pedestals, working the pole as well as any professional. His shirt was nowhere to be seen, with his suspenders reaching over his bare chest as he gyrated and ground up against the pole with unbridled eroticism. 

 

He'd tuned in to the beat of the music, and even though he was completely off his face, his movements were aligned perfectly. How did this situation come about, when only an hour prior, William had been stifling a sensory meltdown outside? 

 

It was a mystery that had to be solved.

 

Grell watched, open-mouthed, for several moments, just barely hanging onto his drink, and thanked his lucky fucking stars that he'd tucked extra tonight or else he'd be sporting a raging erection that  _ everybody  _ saw. This sight was too delicious to be  _ real _ .

 

But it  _ was _ .

 

Grell silently withdrew his phone from his clutch and began recording the impossible phenomenon, knowing he was going to need proof later on, as well as have some fresh masturbatory material. He was a slut, and he didn't care.

 

But he couldn't shake the overwhelming question that dominated his mind:  _ how _ ? How was this happening? Grell was curious and god damn aroused, and he couldn't take his greedy eyes away, drinking in this sight before him much faster than he drank his Bloody Mary.

 

The song eventually ended, allowing Grell to shriek and cheer with the rest of Will's audience. Grell shamelessly reached over and tucked a £20 note into William's waistband, and patted it appreciatively. "Ooh la  _ la _ ~! William, darling, you're  _ gorgeous _ ~!" he cried eagerly, trying to calm his wildly pumping heart. Good god, he would forever treasure this night...!

 

William looked down as he was handed the £20, and began to sway his hips, erotically easing his way down into a squatting position before slowly moving back up, tapping Grell under the chin. 

 

"Hello, miss. Am I to presume you're purchasing a lap dance from the Supervisor?" William whispered, hopping off the stage. His stoic almond eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown almost fully. "If so, you're in for a treat..."

 

Grell giggled a little shrilly and breathlessly, fluttering a manicured hand over his mouth and across his chest, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. "Oh,  _ yes _ ," he began, but his grin faltered when he noticed William's pupils. Oh, damn, he was  _ on  _ something, wasn't he? But just the other morning, hadn't he just decisively said he'd refuse to take any mind-altering drugs? Nothing that would loosen his inhibitions or take his dignity from him?

 

Oh.  _ Now  _ it made sense. Someone had drugged him.

 

Were Grell a better person, he would have taken William outside immediately to let him ride the drugs out. Unfortunately, Grell was not a good person. He was selfish, and thirsty as fuck for this man, and he wanted to treasure any kind of a moment together with him, no matter what.

 

Grell knocked back the rest of his Bloody Mary and slammed the glass down onto the table. "Yes," he murmured huskily, slowly licking the drink from his upper lip, eyes locked with William’s. "Yes, in fact, I very much  _ would _ ."

 

William smiled, his fringe hanging in his eyes. "The couch. Take a...seat," he muttered, gesturing to the couch in the bar section. He felt like he was floating, euphoric, and suddenly starved for physical touch. When Grell sat down on the comfortable leather couch, William leaned over him. 

 

"I'm glad you came tonight, Sutcliffe," he whispered into his ear, since it was easier to do this than about over the music, before starting to dance, swaying before the man in his plastic red dress, trailing his fingers over the smooth surface. 

 

"Tonight's amazing. I feel like I can see the sounds and hear the colours. I'm...on cloud nine," he murmured.

 

Grell melted in his seat when William smiled like that, and he broke out into a light sweat. "Wiiiilllll, you're flattering meeee~" he giggled nervously, heart stammering in his chest when William touched him. He returned it, gently grasping William's suspenders to tug him forward, and then gently ran his fingers underneath the straps and down William's torso. Judging by the symptoms, Grell guessed William was on ecstasy. It was perfect; that was Grell's favorite, and it was a sexual supercharge. No doubt William was getting horny as fuck around now. 

 

"Whatcha gonna do to me~?" Grell cooed, crossing one leg neatly over his knee.

 

"Whatever you want. You paid for me, didn't you?" he answered, pushing Grell's legs back apart. "Hiding yourself away...no need for it. No need..." 

 

William was arguably less coherent than he thought he was. His view of reality was distorted, and his inhibitions were shot. He went ahead and gave Grell the lap dance of his dreams, filled with beautiful, sensual dancing, removing his suspenders, and allowing Grell to touch him however he wanted.

 

Grell took full advantage of it. He etched the memory into his mind forever, knowing that he would never get a chance like this again. He shivered with delight when William so boldly spread the redhead's legs apart again, and in turn, he eagerly felt up William's beautiful, firm pecs and strong biceps. 

 

"Mmm, who says I'm hiding away?" he murmured, drawing William closer as he felt the man's phenomenal abs. Oh, god, William's body was that of a god's, and Grell had a front row seat. This was beautiful. "I would never hide away from  _ you _ , Will~"

 

"Good," William answered, kneeling before him and boldly sliding Grell's dress up his thighs. "So it's fine if I look, right?" he asked, kissing his lower thigh before stealing the panty shot. 

 

A shudder slowly went through him and he smiled up at the redhead. "God, that's a fucking turn on." 

 

Enough for him to reach up and kiss Grell straight on the lips.

 

Grell was so turned on, so short of breath, so dizzy with wonder and delight that it took him a moment to realize that he was being kissed. He gasped softly when he felt William's lips on his own, and hungrily returned the kiss, pushing eagerly back and opening his mouth. Ah, William's lips were...they were everything Grell had ever imagined...! He whined softly, pulling William thoughtlessly into his lap, and kissed him passionately.

 

This was the best fucking night of his life. And to think he had almost decided not to go...!

 

William drew back, his hand tentatively resting on Grell's upper thigh. "I love the underwear you're wearing," he mewled, then glanced off to the side. 

 

"Whoa — oh, heavens. This is...strange." His eyes flitted around owlishly. "The sounds — aaaah — where's Ronald?!" he cried abruptly, trying to search for him through the crowds.

 

Grell's face was nearly as scarlet as his hair, and he had to fan himself a little to stay relatively collected. He was hard as a fucking rock, and it was probably evident inside the red, lacy panties he had on.

 

But reality came crashing down, along with Grell's mood, and a healthy dose of guilt. He'd really taken full advantage of everything his would-be lover had offered him. This wasn't how their first kiss was supposed to have gone. William should have been sober and willing. Not...this. Not this drugged-up copy of William.

 

Grell slowly pushed his thighs back together once more, concealing his erection with his dress. "I don't — " he panted slightly, one hand on his chest, " — I don't know where Ronnie is, darling," he murmured, significantly less enthusiastic than he'd been a moment before. "Maybe he went outside? Let's go look for him out there, shall we? It won't be so loud."

 

For the next twenty minutes, William began to fluctuate between a euphoric high and the less fun side of a trip. 

 

His perception was growing further distorted, and he was beginning to hallucinate. Once he became aware that he was no longer in control of his mind, he began to distress. 

 

"I don't like this!!" he shouted at Grell, hanging off him as his balance warped. "What's happening?"

 

"You got drugged, darling," Grell replied sympathetically, trying to lead William outside and meeting difficulty. "I think you're starting to sober up. Not my favorite part of coming down from a high, either..."

 

When Grell did finally manage to wrestle William outside and away from the noise, he spotted a vending machine not too far off, and began the arduous task of herding William toward it. "Come along, this way...I'm going to buy you some water, darling. Won't that be nice? I'll even let you open it so that you'll know it's safe. Good  _ lord _ , you are  _ wasted _ ..."

 

"It's fine. I trust you," William muttered. Grell flushed uncomfortably when William said he trusted him; his heart fluttered happily and then ached with guilt, and the redhead averted his gaze. "Thanks, darling," he said softly, avoiding William's eyes. While William waited for Grell to buy him some water, he promptly ran over to throw up in the bushes. 

 

"I — I don't feel well," he whined, his knees going weak. He sat down on the grass and wiped his mouth, looking up at the sky. It was turning up above him, like he was watching the globe rotate. 

 

How the hell did this happen...? Had...Ronald drugged him? Would he have really done such a thing?

 

Grell brought William the water, sitting on the grass next to him and rubbing his back comfortingly. When William was well enough to sit up, rinse his mouth out, and start sipping from the water, Grell took him home.

 

"I'll let you know if I find your shirt," Grell told William with a sigh once they were at William's penthouse door. "Lord knows where it wound up. Well...in any case, I hope you can get some sleep tonight. I won't envy you tomorrow morning, that's for certain! Call if you need anything, won't you?"

 

Grell helped William into his cold and lonely penthouse apartment, and the drugged-out brunet flopped weakly onto his couch, moaning in a very displeased manner. 

 

"I...I don't...gnhhhh..."

 

He was trying to articulate that he didn't want to be left alone in this helpless state, but anything he got out was incoherent by now. In addition, he couldn't open his eyes, due to the visual distortion going on. He did, however, manage to grasp Grell's hand, digging his nails in lightly.

 

Grell didn't flinch at the pain, which he found to be enjoyable. He didn't know what William wanted; all he could do was stay there with him and let his hand be held. "Ah, darling," he murmured, reaching down and smoothing William's mussed hair back into place, "wouldn't you rather be in your own bed? I don't believe your  _ couch  _ is of ideal comfort, no..."

 

Come to think of it...this was the first time he had been in William's apartment, wasn't it? Of course he knew where William lived, but he had never been invited inside. It was so pristine and modern, the colors all neutral. It was like a professionally designed model home...ah, well, that was William. So particular and dedicated. 

 

But William moaned quietly and shook his head in protest; he didn't want to be moved. He was content enough on his sofa. Grell huffed lightly through his nose, but smiled, kneeling in front of the couch and gazing up at William.

 

"Alright. Well, if you're comfortable here, I'll leave you be," he murmured, keeping William's hand in his own and cradling it against his cheek. "You'll be good, won't you?"

 

He shut his eyes for a moment, remembering the way William had kissed his inner thigh, his lips...ah, this damned man...! Grell met William's eyes again and leaned forward, kissing him on the lips quite suddenly, and bit him hard enough to leave a mark that began to bleed. That'd wake him up, wouldn't it?

 

Grell gently lapped up the resulting blood from William's chin, coppery and delicious, and drew back, letting William's hand go as he stood up. "Take care of yourself, darling," he murmured, his gaze steady. "I'll come check on you later."

 

He set William's water bottle within reach of him, and found a blanket to tuck William under, as well as a waste basket to keep within William's reach for when he'd undoubtedly be sick again. Coming down from highs was not pretty, after all.

 

William drew breath sharply when he was bitten before pressing his head into the couch cushion. Whatever was going on, he didn't like it. Suddenly he was in pain. Everything was crazy, in and outside of his mind. It was a little too like his past trauma for comfort. 

 

At least the sweet bliss of unconsciousness soon overtook him, and poor William was allowed to sober up in a safe environment as the night went on.

 

Grell locked William's door behind him as he left, and stole off into the night, fuming, sexually frustrated, hungry for blood. He did not immediately go home, and when he did, close to dawn, it was to wash himself off and erase the evidence of the night's deeds. Well, good thing this dress was plastic; all of these dreadful stains would just wipe right off.

 

Deep crimson circled Grell's shower drain like it hadn't in years. He watched it with perfect stoicism, having depleted his emotional energy for the night, but found some satisfaction knowing that this blood was not his own. It had been so long...Grell missed it terribly. He shut his eyes, recalling the sensation of bones shattering under his grip, the sound of screams for mercy where he had none to give. Tasting William's blood had awoken a terrible beast from a long slumber. 

 

Jack the Ripper was no longer dreaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but a long overdue one! Hopefully it's enough to tide you over while we get the next one ready ;) Comments are beloved~


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William must deal with the aftermath of the disastrous party Ronald forced him along to, and Grell appears to be the only one William can turn to.

"William T. Spears, you get up this  _ second _ !" Ronald Knox demanded the next morning.

 

Most of the ghastly green paint had been washed from his hair, but it had left behind an ugly green tint. He towered over William's couch with his hands on his hips, lip bitten with fury, and tapped a foot impatiently. "Will, get up! This better not be you in this video someone took of you at the party last night!!"

 

William flinched when Ronald's voice pierced his ears after only a few scant hours of sleep. Or at least it felt that way, but it could have been many hours later. He couldn't tell. 

 

At least he was sober now, but he sure felt like shit. 

 

He opened his eyes to see an absolutely furious Ronald standing over him, a phone shoved in his face. Pushing his glasses into position, it took him a few seconds to realise with no small amount of horror that he was watching a video recording of him giving a surprisingly good lap dance to Grell Sutcliffe, before eagerly starting to make out with him — if that wasn’t bad enough. 

 

_ Shit _ . 

 

"No...that's...me," he said hoarsely, his lips dry and cracked. Glancing down, he saw a wastebasket and a bottle of water on the floor, and he quickly began to guzzle it down.

 

"Well, what the  _ fuck _ ?!" Ronald shouted, stamping his foot with no regard for William's delicate sensory input. "How could you even do that to me?! What the  _ fuck _ , Will?! I thought you and I were something actually special?! I take you to my favorite place and  _ this  _ is what you do to me?! Why don't you just leave me for that fucking  _ shemale _ then?!"

 

The worst part of this was that Ronald meant every word of it, slur included. He was furious, and he intended to hurt.

 

William listened to Ronald's ranting, before quietly lifting a hand up to silence him. The messy-haired brunet pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his forehead before glancing up at him with a gaze like ice picks. 

 

"Oh, darling, I wouldn't recommend using a discriminatory slur against a coworker in the presence of your boss. I have quite an issue with that."

 

Ronald failed to heed the warning signs; William's gaze wasn't enough to stop him.

 

"Well,  _ I _ have an issue with being cheated on with cheap tarts like  _ him _ ," he snapped, red in the face. "Of course he'd be all over you; he's been after your cock for years! But you told me I have nothing to worry about with that thing?  _ Bullshit _ , Will. You lied to me!"

 

That was the moment that William had had enough. Something inside him very quietly snapped, and he let out a small sigh of displeasure, still rubbing his aching head. 

 

"You asked 'how' I could do something like this to you?" he responded calmly. "Have you considered that it might have had something to do with drugs? You see, I don't take them, personally. I only had one drink, the one you gave me, and somehow...something very strange happened. One might have thought that...whoever did this to me might have been aware of what would happen."

 

Ronald took a small step back, feeling like an electric shock had gone through him. He hesitated, stammering uncertainly, and quickly averted his gaze. He was quick to change his whole tune. 

 

"W-well, that...! That's — you must just be a really weak drinker," he mumbled, squeezing his hands into fists. "I had tons to drink and I was fine! It's not my fault if you can't hold your booze! I only brought you that  _ one _ , didn't I...?"

 

William stood up abruptly, and took a wavering step towards Ronald. His heart was pounding in his throat and his eyes were stinging. This wasn't going to end well. 

 

"You...have the  _ gall  _ to stand there, vulgarly insulting my friend and verbally berating me, for actions that occurred due to  _ you _ illegally drugging me without my permission?!" he hissed, eyes narrowing fiercely. 

 

"Ronald Knox. What the  _ hell  _ is the matter with you?!" 

 

He didn't even give Ronald a chance to respond. The more he thought about it, the more it broke his heart. 

 

In a split second his right fist, which was always his stronger, shot forward and struck Ronald right in the side of the mouth as hard as he absolutely could. William felt teeth scraping over his knuckles and coming loose, followed by a warm gush of blood.

 

Ronald hit the floor like a rag doll, clutching his face as he spat out a couple of bloody teeth. It had been so fast he hadn't even seen it coming; the next thing he'd known was that he was on the floor with blinding pain in his face and teeth in his hand. The pain pulsed through his temples and throbbed, rendering him temporarily blind.

 

He spat out one more tooth, shaking from head to toe, speechless, terrified. He couldn't say anything; he just knelt weakly on the floor with his cheek in his hand, blood seeping from his mouth.

 

"I just wanted you to relax and have fun," he whispered after a very long time, white in the face. "It was just a little bit of ecstasy. Can you blame me for wanting you to have a good time? And  _ this  _ is the thanks I get...?"

 

William stood over him, angry tears in his eyes, clutching a bloody hand he was certain he'd broken a knuckle on. 

 

"I  _ trusted  _ you," he whispered. "I looked after you when you needed me and I thought I'd earned the same respect. Instead you drug me and leave me to make an absolute fool of myself, on video. You have  _ humiliated  _ me and  _ ruined  _ my reputation, and now you come in here and  _ fucking spew blame at me _ about what happened?!"

 

Utterly furious, and having no idea what else to do with his anger, he proceeded to pour the bottle of water over Ronald's head. 

 

"You drugged me without my consent, and I have no idea what was done to me or what I did to others. You took my control away from me," he choked out, feeling his treacherous tears run against his will. "Just like in my human life. I'll never forgive you for it."

 

He let the bottle fall from his hands and turned away. "Get the hell out of here, Ronald Knox, before I really make you regret it."

 

Ronald clutched his teeth tightly in his fist, silent and motionless for a minute, sopping wet, and then spat out a mouthful of blood to William's feet before he rose to his own. "Fine.  _ Fine _ . To hell with you, then," he snarled, tearing up quite suddenly, and then fled the apartment, slamming the door shut after him. He did not stop and he did not look back. He gave up on William, not even trying to apologize or try to make things right. His pride had been too heavily wounded, and he was too emotional to think clearly about what he had done. He had irreparably destroyed their relationship for good, and he was not fine with that.

 

With so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, William needed a lot of time to calm down. He wasn't going to do anything else irrationally; he needed to get his anger out and deal with the situation with a clear mind. He was not proud of resorting to violence. He’d wanted to become a better man than that...but it still happened. 

 

Ultimately feeling too nauseous to move anymore, William simply sat on the couch for a while, allowing his emotions to express themselves freely while in the privacy of his own home. Then he went into the bathroom and washed his red face and his now-swollen and bruised hand, dressing it neatly. 

 

He felt emotionally drained after that, but he had a lot to do. If the video on Ronald's phone and the bite marks on William's lower lip were anything to go by, he owed Grell Sutcliffe a visit.

 

—- 

 

Grell had not slept much since coming home that morning. It was well after noon and he still hadn't left the house or even gotten dressed yet, instead lounging about in a red Turkish bathrobe, with a pore-cleansing beauty mask on, and mindlessly bingeing Project Runway. It was a good way to unwind after an emotionally charged night.

 

"Oh,  _ please  _ — there's a  _ difference  _ between blood orange and red, you fucking uncultured swine," he complained to the television when he heard a knock at his door. Bianca lifted her head up and immediately trotted out to the front room to greet their unexpected visitor. Grell moaned and flopped his head down irritably, not wanting to get up and socialize for a damn change, but when the knocking persisted, he mumbled and swore under his breath, stuffing his feet into a pair of red satin house slippers before going to answer the door.

 

The last person in the world he expected to see on his doorstep was William T. Spears, and Grell went completely scarlet under his beauty mask at the fact that William was seeing him in such a state of undress.

 

"O-o- _ oh _ ...!" he cried, ducking behind the door and peeking out in shame and embarrassment. "Will, I'm not decent...! I wish you had called...! Ah — are you alright...?"

 

But a quick glance told him no — William was not alright. His hand was bandaged up, and that look in his eyes…What happened...?

 

"Ah, darling, please come in — I'll just be a moment so I can be presentable..."

 

William had the grace to blush when he intruded on Grell in such a state. He knew he'd be embarrassed if anyone rocked up to his door when he was only in his pyjamas, and he imagined the feeling would be triply worse for Grell, who was incredibly vain. Not to mention, Grell seemed more concerned that it was  _ William _ .

 

"I apologize for the intrusion!" he said quickly, politely averting his eyes. He entered Grell's home nonetheless, closing the door behind him and kneeling down to pet Bianca. "Ah...hello, my favourite lady.."

 

Bianca wagged her tail softly and gently headbutted William's hand, happy to see him again. She kept him company while Grell frantically peeled the beauty mask off in his bedroom. In record time, he was in something more presentable and even had thrown a little makeup on (eyeliner and false eyelashes), and stepped out into his front room with a little more dignity.

 

"It's alright," he assured him with a sigh, sitting neatly on his loveseat and motioning for William to join him. "It's you, so I forgive you. Now tell me what happened, dear! It must be dire if you've come to  _ me _ ."

 

William looked positively exhausted, and he sat down on the seat without any argument. "It's...not like that," he mumbled. "I didn't come to play Agony Aunt." 

 

He glanced up at Grell, seeing the makeup he'd managed to put on, and felt a little self-conscious about his own appearance. He was still in last night's clothes with a t-shirt hastily thrown on. His hair was a mess and he looked a fright. 

 

"Grell...you know perfectly well what happened last night," he said hoarsely, lowering his red-tinged eyes. "...You know what happened better than I do. I just want you to be honest and tell me the truth about it."

 

Grell was a little taken aback, and he hesitated for a moment before he leaned back against the seat cushions. He averted his gaze for a bit, lacing his fingers together in his lap, but returned his gaze to meet William's. It was not without a fair amount of guilt.

 

"I wondered if you would remember," he said quietly, squeezing his hands together. "I arrived fairly late last night...fashionably, you know. You were already, ah..." 

 

He trailed off; there was no point in fluffing it up. Just be out with it.

 

"Quite drugged," he muttered with a frown. "Ecstasy, I could tell...I've tried it once or twice. But, Will, I promise it wasn't me...! You were already — I'd  _ never  _ — not to you, after what you've been through. Even a loathsome thing like me wouldn't do that. Obviously you didn't do it to yourself, especially not after our conversation at brunch. I don't know who  _ did  _ do it, though, which I suppose is lucky or else they'd be wearing their own guts for a necklace right now."

 

He sighed quietly, remembering the things that William had done, and how he had responded. "But I...I let you do those things...for, for quite a while before I finally decided to take you home," he said in an even smaller voice. "...I wasn't even buzzed. I knew what was going on and I let it happen. But...I'm sorry that I did. Will, I'm sorry..."

 

William narrowed his eyes, his migraine making him quickly grow frustrated with Grell's roundabout, indirect way of explaining what went on. "Damn it, Sutcliffe," he growled. "I know things went on. I just need to know what. I want...someone...to tell me the bloody truth already." He rubbed his eyes, feeling his emotions starting to resurge. Goddamn Ronald Knox. Fuck him.

 

Grell knew this mood well, and it was not to be tested. He nodded quickly. "I, er, I can't speak for before I arrived, but when I did, you were...pole dancing," he whispered, very red in the face. "It was — well,  _ really  _ quite incredible. You were extremely good, even off your face like that. Er — I was feeling saucy so I tipped you £20 for the show. That's when you...when you..."

 

God, why was it so hard to spit it out?! Fuck, William was going to hate him forever. Disown him. Everything.

 

"You — you gave me a lap dance," he uttered from behind one hand, face burning hot, "and...we...snogged a bit...?"

 

William said nothing for a while, staring away in silence. He could feel Grell's eyes on him, watching the heat rise to the tips of his ears. But the urge to beat Grell into a bloody pulp, much like he'd done with Ronald, was not present. At least, not to any active extent. 

 

"I see," he answered finally, curling his bandaged hand unconsciously. "What else? Did I...hurt anyone? Who else did I fool around with?"

 

Grell squeezed his hands anxiously, resisting the urge to bite his lip. "I don't think you hurt anyone," he said quickly. "But I don't know if you fooled around with anyone else before I showed up. At that point, you started crashing, so I took you outside for some fresh air. You were sick into the bushes, and I bought you a water bottle. Then I took you home. That's all I know."

 

The weight on the supervisor's shoulders did not feel any lighter, but it didn't feel any heavier either. 

 

"I...I'm not angry with you," he said finally. "As it stands, I...know you're not perfect, Grell. The last few weeks your behaviour has been a very welcome change, and given the circumstances...I don't really blame you for taking advantage of my vulnerable state. You've made how you feel about me perfectly clear, and I understand the temptation. A bit of kissing is harmless, in the big picture, and you took me home, so..." He shrugged a little, despite how he hated what a plebeian gesture it was. 

 

"Christ, maybe I just don't have it in me to be mad at you right now."

 

Grell very, very hesitantly glanced up, not quite daring to believe it. He still felt like there was an axe waiting to fall — it felt too heavy to just be  _ over _ without any damage.  _ Especially _ without any damage. This felt more like the calm before the storm, which Grell was  _ very _ familiar with, but...even so, William looked so damn beaten down. Too exhausted. Maybe he really did mean it. Perhaps the only way the axe  _ would _ fall right now was if William knew what  _ else _ Grell had done last night, but Grell was too smart to bring that up. He was going to keep his damn mouth shut.

 

"I...you don't hate me?" the effeminate reaper finally ventured with highly tentative incredulity. Testing the waters. Never hurt to be cautious. "You aren’t even  _ angry _ ...?"

 

Bianca daintily settled her chin on Grell's lap, and he anxiously stroked her head and neck in response. "I suppose it's lucky I have enough Sutcliffe-directed anger for the both of us then, isn't it?" he asked with a hollow smile. "I'm certain I don't deserve that grace from you, Will...even if I  _ have  _ been good lately."

 

Even though he hadn't. He had just hidden the evidence down his drain the night before, hadn't he?

 

"Self pity doesn't suit you," William answered loftily. "Don't ask for my sympathy here, because I have nothing to give right now. My emotional output was used up on the person who really betrayed my trust last night. I...hurt him. I used physical violence, against my better instincts, and...I have no right to judge you for something so minor when I perpetrated such abuse." He also reached over to Bianca, stroking her smooth, silky coat with his better hand.

 

Grell automatically glanced down at William's bandaged hand and frowned. "Then you know who did it to you?" he asked, but mostly as a confirmation to himself. "I see...then I think it goes without saying that it's best if I don't know who he is. If I know his name for certain, I'll do much worse than that."

 

He met William's eye again and smiled lightly. "But you know that, of course," he added amiably, patting Bianca's head. "Whatever you did, I know it was well deserved.  _ I'm  _ certainly not going to judge you."

 

"I think you know perfectly well who did this to me," William said after a brief pause. 

 

Maybe this  _ was  _ going to be a little 'Agony Aunt'; the name did seem to fit Grell. 

 

"If you want to earn back some of the trust you lost, you can start by keeping your hands off of him. I feel bad enough that I made such a mess of his face."

 

Grell stroked behind Bianca's ears, looking grim. "...Ronald," he said very quietly, feeling his heart broil with hate. That little brat had been ungrateful at best, but to stoop so low and do such a thing to William? Grell wasn't certain that he could keep a promise to not utterly  _ annihilate  _ the little piece of shit.

 

"How  _ dare  _ he? To  _ William Spears _ ?” Grell seethed, gritting his teeth. "Whatever you did, it wasn't enough. He  _ must  _ know your past. He's supposed to be your partner, so what the hell is he thinking?Damn it, William, I  _ knew  _ you were too good for him...!!"

 

He suddenly rose to his feet, trembling with fury, heart pounding, and clenched his fists so tightly that he dug his nails into his skin. Bianca whined in alarm, nosing at Grell's knee, and put her paws up, sensitive to her master's feelings. Just as abruptly he sat back down, and stroked the dog’s head again, but he was far from calm.

 

"...Only because  _ you _ asked, William," Grell muttered acidly. "But I'm going to need your help. If I see him, I might need you to hold me back."

 

"I'll see what I can do," the brunet responded quietly, watching Grell's enraged face. It wasn't something he was familiar with seeing, but it intrigued him. 

 

"I don't...know what's going on, really. I really believed I could trust him, because he showed me his most vulnerable face. We were doing so well...I feel so caught off guard."

 

William went ahead and explained what had happened that morning, from the video to the victim-blaming to the outright lying.

 

Grell held his face in his hands, digging his nails into his forehead so tightly that left red crescent marks. He was having an extremely difficult time calming himself down; he hadn't even been this fucking furious last night. 

 

Suddenly, he jolted back up to his feet without a word, and stormed into the kitchen. Things could then be heard being slammed about — cupboards, kitchen glasses, drawers. Bianca had no idea what to make of this; she had never in her young life seen her master in such a mood. Tail tucked firmly between her legs and ears pulled back submissively, she attempted to comfort William instead, as he was the more composed of the two, but it might have been an effort to calm  _ herself _ .

 

There was the sound of shattering glass, a loud " _ fuck _ ", and then another rough clink of glass on a counter, followed by the sound of liquid pouring. In the next moment, he returned to the lounge room with a full glass of red wine, one hand haphazardly wrapped in a dish towel (which was slowly staining red), and he sat roughly back down on the loveseat. He knocked his head back and downed the entire glass in one go, furiously smacking it down onto a coaster when he was done.

 

"I'm too sober for this," he snarled, examining his hand under the rag. "I broke a wine glass. I'm too fucking sober for this. I'd  _ kill  _ him, Will. I'd offer you a drink too but I didn't think you'd want one after last night. _ I can't even see straight. _ God  _ damnit _ ."

 

He really couldn't; he could only see red. He couldn't think straight, or calm down. It had been decades since he had been so nauseatingly enraged.

 

"I won't forgive him. Playing with your trauma..."

 

William's gaze instantly became wary, and he bit his lip. "Shut up and settle down this instant, Grell Sutcliffe," he said sternly, guilt swelling within him. "I didn't...come here to upset you." 

 

Now it was his turn to stand. 

 

"Perhaps this was a mistake. It may have been wiser to leave you be. Acting like some mortal sin was committed by Ronald when we both know perfectly well what you moonlight as...is just hypocritical."

 

Why had he come to Grell...? Weren't they both as bad as each other, taking advantage of him? Was it that William felt needy, because the man he was probably in love with had just broken his heart? 

 

"Damn it. I think I just came here because Ronald left me and I didn't want to go back to being alone," he confessed quietly. "Disgusting, isn't it."

 

Grell definitely was feeling disgust, but it was by no means directed at William. 

 

"No, it...I...sorry," he mumbled, hanging his head, and reaching up and gripping his fringe. Fuck, that had gotten  _ much  _ too close to Jack. He had been alluded to, but Grell preferred to keep the conversation far, far away from him. He had to calm down, stay on track. "I know you weren't trying to upset me,” he muttered to William, averting his gaze. “I just...I suppose I've been caught off guard, as well. It's true that I'm no saint, but...well, it's rather personal to me."

 

He smiled bitterly. “My feelings for you are no secret. Everybody knows this,” he stated, and saw William immediately glance down in what had to be guilt. Nonetheless, he continued. 

 

“I was naturally resentful of Ronald when you courted him, but I let him be because he seemed to be making you happy. What  _ infuriates  _ me," he went on, "is that he so thoroughly betrayed you. If it was  _ anyone  _ else, I could not have possibly cared less. But it  _ was  _ you. It's ridiculous, being so self-righteously incensed as if  _ I've  _ never hurt or offended you before.  _ That  _ is disgusting. But wanting to...wanting to keep company is  _ not  _ disgusting."

 

He groaned at himself. “I’ve been a frightful host. William, dear, could I persuade you to share a drink with me?” 

 

Having listened to Grell, William found it easier to understand the man's viewpoint a little better. He might feel the same way if the situation was reversed. It had to be painful...of course Grell was angry. 

 

"You...could, actually. Thank you. And any painkillers you have lying around; I think I broke something when I punched Ronald's teeth out. Oh — but only so long as I am not imposing in any way,” the elder reaper was quick to clarify. 

 

It was strange...Grell was the only one he felt like being around right now. Alan was William's best friend, but he had been nowhere to be seen when William was making a fool of himself last night. .

 

"You punched his  _ teeth  _ out?" Grell asked, unable to hide a grin of delight. "How tantalising — God, I hope it's really obvious every time he opens his mouth. And not to worry; you could never be imposing upon me~”

 

He brought William a wine glass and the rest of the bottle that he'd opened, along with some aspirin. "As it happens, I was having a little  _ Project Runway _ marathon with my darling Bianca. You're welcome to join me, if you'd like a distraction, perhaps?"

 

Upon hearing her name, Bianca climbed up onto the couch and settled in Grell's lap, just relieved that his explosive anger had passed and he seemed to be back to normal. He worried her sometimes, but at least this time he hadn't hurt himself. This guest kept him happy enough.

 

William settled down over on the comfortable couch with his wine, taking a small sip from it. "Oh, this is an excellent red," he murmured. "It's nice to know you also appreciate a good wine."

 

Unlike Ronald, who drank $2 beer when he wasn't having Fanta from a sippy cup. William didn't hold his choices against him, but it was always nice to spend time with someone who shared similar interests...even given the circumstances. 

 

"I'm sorry, what did you say you were watching?" It was still playing on mute, and it took William all of ten seconds to wonder just what he'd been roped into. 

 

"Oh, is this the show about the transsexuals?" he asked lightly.

 

Grell paused for a moment before reacting properly, and then leaned over just a little and gave William a scrutinizing stare, trying to gauge if he was joking or not. It wasn’t exactly a condescending look, but it was heavily incredulous. Transsexual? Really? Nobody used that term anymore. Either William misinformed or terribly out of touch with the community terminology...then again, he always was old-fashioned. Grell unmuted the show, which was focusing on the host laying down the laws of fashion and design to the woefully inexperienced contestants, but Grell was very curious about what William actually knew.

 

"Dearest, do you mean 'transgender'?" he posited casually, resting his chin on his palm as he leaned back. "We're watching  _ Project Runway _ right now...were you thinking of the Drag Race?"

 

William flushed quite suddenly and looked down into his glass. 

 

“I-I might be a little behind the times, admittedly,” he answered tucking a grey lock of hair behind his ear. “I do not usually watch television either, but sometimes in the break room, people are watching the — the drag race.” 

 

He looked up at Grell hesitantly. “I don’t know much...but...I won’t accept intolerance of such harmless things, either.”

 

"That's fair, that's fair," Grell murmured sagely, and took an elegant sip from his glass. He ran a fingernail around the rim of the glass, watching the wine inside swish gently about. "That one is very fun too, isn't it?"

 

He leaned back in his seat and gave William a very open, honest smile, feeling a little relieved, somehow. Knowing that William was just a little out of date made it easier. "You are a fair bit behind the times," Grell agreed, crossing one leg over the other, and Bianca hopped up onto the couch to settle her chin in Grell's lap. With his free hand, he automatically reached down and stroked her head. "But your heart is in exactly the right place. If you'd like, I'm perfectly happy to get you reacquainted with the current vernacular. It has changed a lot this decade, I'll admit."

 

William took a long draft of wine from his glass. “I’m ready,” he declared with a decisive nod. ”If not entirely sober yet. Have at it.” 

 

Grell was ultimately quite patient as he explained the gender spectrum to William, and the concept of dysphoria, and how gender expression does not equal gender identity. That explained transvestites, didn’t it...? 

 

It was all new ground for the poor gay reaper, but he took mental notes and stowed them away to write down later.

 

"So you see where I fall on the spectrum?" Grell asked, drawing an invisible square in the air between them. "If this side is masculine, and this side is feminine...I'm somewhere...closer over  _ here _ ," he pointed, motioning to the feminine side. "But on occasion, I slip back here." The masculine side, just barely. "It's really all over depending on how strong the dysphoria is, and why I don't correct the pronouns people use for me. They say that's gender 'fluid', but...well, I'm lovely and amazing no matter  _ what  _ label you choose for me," he crowed, tossing his hair over his shoulder with a lavish, confident flourish. "I just say I'm queer and be done with it~ That's  _ far  _ more efficient, no?"

 

William blinked. He'd been following along with Grell's simplistic explanation thus far, but this threw him for a loop.

 

"'Queer'? I thought that meant homosexual. Numerous times, I've heard people huddled in office cubicles whispering about me, 'the boss is queer'. Or 'a faggot'. Frankly, I'd rather just be direct and say I'm gay."

 

Grell went somewhat rigid at the idea of people talking shit about William's sexuality. "Have you, now?" he asked stiffly, trying to quell the fire in his blood which threatened to flare back up. "I see. Well, that's really unfortunate, isn't it? Not half as unfortunate as the 'accidents' they'll have if I ever find out their names, that's for certain."

 

He sneered a bit and finished off his glass of wine with a huff, and then took a deep breath to remain calm. "Queer evolved a little since the 20th century," he explained, pleasantly changing the subject. "It's something of a blanket term now for anyone who isn't heterosexual or cisgender. For me...simply saying that I was 'gay' wouldn't be adequate to describe me!"

 

Now that he was getting back into the flow of the discussion, Grell brightened up and became a little more eager. How had William not known these things? Whatever the reason, Grell was delighted to share this part of himself with William, and more importantly, for William to be  _ interested  _ and attentive, engaged. He couldn't be angry for long.

 

William drew his legs up onto the couch and eyed the red reaper. There was much to consider, and with the wine temporarily blunting his sharp mind, it was a little more difficult to express his thoughts.  "The idea of not being specific in my identity is quite uncomfortable to me. S-so with that in mind, I'm curious; if I, a homosexual male, were to be attracted to .... someone like you...a person who was....assigned male at birth based on physical...characteristics..." 

 

He trailed off, having flustered himself, and quickly drained the last of his wine. "And that person maybe identified differently to that assigned gender...I — fuck, sorry.."

 

Poor William sighed awkwardly. Every way he tried to phrase his thoughts, he wasn't sure if he was saying something offensive...and he felt foolish as hell.

 

"No, don't apologize, darling, you're doing fine," Grell encouraged William with a little pat on the back. He realized quite suddenly, though, what William was trying to say — what he  _ had _ said: 'If I were attracted to someone like you' — and the effeminate reaper blushed and glanced away again. Someone  _ like _ him. Not necessarily _ him  _ personally. 

 

_ Don't ever, ever get your hopes up _ , he thought gloomily to himself.

 

"Oh, I...that is...well," he hummed awkwardly, drumming his manicured nails along the arm of the sofa and playing with his hair with his other hand. "To tell you the truth...I don't know what that would mean," he confessed, glancing back at William with an uncharacteristic shyness. "You're wondering what it would make your identity, right? You're as gay as they come; I don't think your homosexuality is under any scrutiny, darling. Maybe it only means you don't despise femininity...? It's tolerable?"

 

William looked deeply wary, and turned his attention back to the TV for a good twenty minutes, brows furrowed in concentration that had nothing to do with the show. 

 

Eventually, he seemed to have properly gathered his thoughts, because he abruptly sat up and turned to Grell with renewed vigour. 

 

“Look, Sutcliffe. You’ve made things very confusing for me. I think — I think most people can be aesthetically attractive to some degree, 90% of them being masculine-presenting. But when all bets are off and I have someone naked in my bed, if they don’t have the right equipment...it’s not going to happen. If it’s not a cock, I really just can’t. Alright?” he huffed.

 

In the time of William's silence, Grell sat tensely beside him on the couch with his wine, and then refilled it and sipped again tentatively, wondering if he had struck a nerve. Then, mid-sip of his wine, William suddenly burst back to life like a firework, and Grell was caught so off-guard that he nearly slopped his drink down his front. A little frazzled, he stared at William with wide eyes as he took in this information, and listened to him. The redhead adjusted his glasses by the side and then tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

 

"So that's — ?" he stammered, going back to adjusting his glasses, the chain swinging lightly with the motion. He looked William briefly up and down, trying to read all body language very deeply. "I — I beg your pardon, darling, but are you... _ angry _ about this?" he finally ventured, more than bewildered. "Or expecting me to be angry with you? Because...you know that's always been allowed, don't you?"  He let out a nervous, yet relieved, little huff of laughter. "If you don't find certain qualities attractive, no one is  _ making  _ you sleep with someone with those qualities. You've got autonomy and agency, dear; I hope no one has been making you feel guilty for not wanting to bed them. If all you want is cock, that's perfectly fine!"

 

“Y-you don’t have to put it so bluntly!” William griped, hiding his face behind his pale, slender hand. “I think, the truth is...I didn’t want to hurt your feelings in any way.”

 

The words felt strange coming out, and a different kind of anxiety made his stomach flip. The touch of alcohol was enough to loosen his tongue, and so when more words came, he let them flow. They were his...yet it didn’t feel like himself saying them. 

 

“Of course I’m not straight; lord knows I never will be. But even if you do call yourself a woman, I’d find you quite attractive as you are.”

 

Grell was motionless for a moment, processing this information, and then heat crept up his neck and face like lava up a volcano. He turned away suddenly, covering his tomato red face with his hands and letting out a squealing whine, bouncing his legs restlessly, trying to contain his explosive joy.

 

“ _ You find me attractive, _ ” he wheezed breathlessly, clutching his heart. “Oh, god, I wasn’t ready. I was  _ not  _ ready for that. I’ve gone to heaven...!!!”

 

Grell fanned himself frantically, making some attempt to cool down and regain his poise, but really, he had no chill when it came to William. “Phew, I — I appreciate — y-your consideration for, for my feelings,” he stammered, pushing his fringe back repeatedly and playing with his hair. “But yours are understandable.”

 

Fuck. Will thought he was attractive...Grell could feel his heart pounding in his throat.

 

“Honestly....control yourself!” William snapped, curling up into a smaller ball against the couch. “I’m the one who was drugged last night, but I seem to recall it better than you!” 

 

He abruptly unfolded, and lay sprawled on the couch in exhaustion. ”Pfft...”

 

“You were off your rocker!” Grell cried, peeking through his fingers, and he turned beet red when he saw William’s lovely body sprawled out so casually as it was. His shirt had flopped up, and Grell could see William’s lithe hips, flat, muscled abdomen, his _ treasure trail _ ...his  _ bulge _ . Grell was practically steaming out of his ears at this point; it was so fucking tantalizing and beautiful. William wasn’t eye candy — he was an eye  _ feast _ . 

 

A feast from which Grell could not take one morsel.

 

Heart pounding in his throat, Grell turned away from him again. ”I thought it must have been the drugs talking, so I...that’s why I...was afraid to believe it. I didn’t think you really meant it. You’ve hated me for so many years, after all, so...”

 

He began twisting and wringing the hem of his bathrobe in his hands, fidgeting madly with an empty, desperate sort of half smile. “That’s why I took advantage of it,” he murmured, avoiding William’s gaze. “At least I could pretend, just for a little while, that you felt the same way about me.”

 

His heart was racing...even Grell knew that this was fear. “The things you said to me, the things we did...I wanted to treasure them forever. It was...it was so  _ lovely _ . A dream come true, but...not the way I wanted.”

 

“I hated you, but that never made you ugly,” William grumbled, staring at the tv in a very unprofessional position, half-slid off the couch. "Last night wasn't a complete coincidence. In the video, I said your name. I knew it was you, even if I was... _ that _ drugged out. A person I find attractive, who had been good to me of late...? With no inhibitions, it made sense that I acted that way." He cocked an eyebrow at Grell now, amused by how flustered he was. 

 

When he turned to glance at Grell, however, he immediately saw a very familiar look on the redhead’s face. William had seen it many times...it was pure, unbridled lust. 

 

That was not where he wanted this visit to go. 

 

“I respect your honesty about your actions...and I am very grateful you took me home,” he said a little more soberly, shifting back up into a sitting position and finally standing. “It could have been much worse...”

 

Grell glanced back at William, pulling at his ruby hair in agitation. “In the end, I cared about you more than myself,” he murmured, forcing his lust back as well as he could. He did, however, have to strategically place his hands in his lap. “I’m glad I took you home. You were safer, and...and that  _ rat  _ couldn’t poison you any longer. But...if it’s worth anything at all...I’m sorry that I took advantage of you, Will,” he said much more quietly. “It’s not going to happen again.”

 

William stared down at the ground for a moment, choosing his words carefully.

 

"No one is perfect," he replied. "We're all disturbed creatures born of sin, after all, and those without self-control will continue to languish within it. Take Mr. Knox, for example." His expression became quite bitter, and a deep sigh left his shoulders. His heart ached at the thought of what Ronald had done to him. 

 

"I do give second chances on occasion, because some people deserve a chance to learn from their mistakes. So, if you do not betray my trust again, we should have a long and fruitful relationship." 

 

William wasn't sure why he didn't say 'friendship'. 

 

"N-Now, I believe we should bring an end to this conversation; it is a little too personal for my liking..."

 

"Perhaps that's for the best," Grell hastily agreed, pushing his fringe back and collapsing against the back of the couch. Damnit, it had all just sounded too good to be true... He'd been dying to hear something like that for centuries and when it happened, he blushed and flustered like a schoolgirl? He’d been buzzed on cheap wine, in his bathrobe, in his living room? He’d been supposed to be wearing a designer gown on a bridge over the Seine, in the heart of Paris or something — not — whatever  _ this  _ had been. Incredible. "I'll remember this, believe me,” he mumbled after a moment. “In any case, we can enjoy a nice bit of telly together," he added, increasing the volume a couple of clicks. "More wine...?"

 

William settled back on the couch and murmured a quiet thank you as Grell refilled his wine with a generous pour. His mind was still somewhere back in their last conversation, thinking about the gender spectrum, and fluctuating between certain genders. It was certainly very interesting. He felt glad that someone like Grell was there to educate him. 

 

And this... _ this _ was a much nicer way to spend the day than burying himself in paperwork so he didn't have to think about how much his heart ached. It was much more preferable to just watch silly television.

 

Grell could actually even be a responsible person sometimes; unlike Ronald, he knew when it was time to quit drinking, so he put the bottle away once they were reasonably buzzed, but not quite tipsy. He wasn't going to let William feel out of control again. And for all the despicable, horrible things that Grell had done, drugging men (especially William) was not among them. It was not anything he was going to start doing, either.

 

(Grell preferred a genuine chase and a fair fight, mostly, but it was among the reasons he didn't impair his victims with mind altering substances.)

 

"You're my best friend, Will," he mumbled absently as they watched models strut and pose down catwalks. "I'm glad you came here."

 

Sometimes, despite his cool demeanour, William even found the tv show amusing enough to laugh softly at, though of course he would cover his mouth. He didn't have a television at home, but now he was starting to see the benefits of one. 

 

"I'm...glad I did too. Thank you for letting me just...take my mind off things," he murmured, glancing over at Grell with a faint smile.

 

Grell nodded pleasantly, returning the smile. "Sometimes a mindless distraction is good for you," he replied, meeting William's eyes. "I'm glad I was able to give you that. Next time you want to come round, you can pick the programme we watch, darling. I'm interested to see what you'd enjoy. Mm...probably historical documentaries; am I quite right?"

 

"I'm interested in the future more than the past," William answered. He agreed, what they were watching was certainly mindless. 

 

"I like scientific documentaries, about advancements in technology...and I like natural documentaries, too." He shifted his knees self-consciously, not exactly comfortable with opening up about himself. "In fact, I find them wholly fascinating."

 

Grell raised his eyebrows a little. "I didn't know that," he responded in surprise. "Any of that, really. Scientific...hmm...I suppose that makes sense, though. Like I said before...I do know that educating yourself is your favorite pastime. I might know a few shows on Netflix you'd enjoy, then. The Americans seem incredibly fond of this Bill Nye fellow...and there's Cosmos; that's quite popular. I never saw it myself, but I understand it's about outer space. Ahh, that's a little romantic, isn't it? Maybe I might even like to watch something like that...it  _ is  _ quite a pretty world we live in, isn't it?"

 

The conversation was pleasantly relaxed and open, and Grell liked it a lot. He especially liked that they would be able to remember this later on; he never did understand Ronald, who got blackout drunk every weekend. Why go out to party if you couldn't even remember the occasion?

 

This was why Grell was so much better for William. He kept him good company and paid attention to what he had to say. 

 

Eventually, evening fell and the sky outside grew dark. Grell escorted William to the door when he was ready, and they thanked each other for an enjoyable afternoon. Bianca licked William's fingers to kiss him goodbye, and that was that. They would see each other at work the next day.

 

The next several days, in fact, were very nice for Grell. Ronald wasn't speaking to William or making eye contact with him at work, and William returned the favor. In addition, William went back to Grell's studio for another private ballet lesson. Life was pretty good for Grell for those few days, largely thanks to the nice afternoon of bonding they'd had.

 

William wasn't having a wondrous time, given the circumstances, but practicing ballet with Grell took his mind off the fact that Ronald hadn't spoken to him for several days. 

 

William deduced that this meant they were over for good... and some part of him was heartbroken at the fact. What a foolish man he was, to fall in love with such a callous boy. The brunet assured himself that he wouldn't let himself be toyed with in such a manner again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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